One of the incredibly irritating things about moving is slowly losing access to things that you maybe don’t use everyday–your spontaneity becomes more limited. or at least more time-consuming, as you suddenly have to knead dough by hand.
One thing I really hate about moving is when you realize that certain things are the “last” things: the last time we had to make the trek from Fairway Harlem laden with bags (that was Sunday), the last time I ride the 1 regularly (I don’t want to think about that right now), the last time you make pizza dough or fresh pasta dough. Of course, all of these vary in emotional significance–although my lower lip may have trembled a little bit when we were in line for the register at Fairway and I stared out the window at the foggy Hudson and cursed the fact that the weather was so crappy. But then Michael casually mentioned packing away the Kitchen Aid and I realized that these pizzas were the last to be made here in New York. If they must be the last…at least they were delicious. And a little over the top.
I’m really going to miss having access to Esposito & Sons and their fantastic, fantastic meat case, because without fail you can usually roll into their store and aside from the very obscure cut (like veal short ribs) you can walk out with whatever it is you’re craving without having to spend a ton of money in the process. Like I said–I’m mourning that spirit of spontaneity. But I digress. Michael was in the mood for some duck, and so we tossed around the idea of getting a couple of duck legs to roast (and some duck breast to turn into duck ham later in the week), shred them and then put them on a pizza with some caramelized onions and fontina cheese, and then the second pizza would be a more subdued affair: a little cacio di roma, some herbs, and cloves of well-roasted garlic smushed and spread here and there.
Both pizzas turned out beautifully (a phrase I hate being associated with food because it should be primarily about taste, then appearance) but these pizzas really did look lovely. I love the way caramelized onions look golden and translucent–like stained glass–and Michael did a great job in gently stretching the dough so it would stay as thin as possible while baking.
And you know what? I think the smoke alarm only went off once or twice during the cooking process. Dealing with that thing, at least, will be one thing I will be happy to leave to the next residents in our apartment.