Element 112.

Dave and I had an excellent experience at Element 112 last month for our anniversary.  If you are local, I’d highly recommend it.  We’re already planning a trip back with friends to try the private tasting room later in the fall so we get to sample an entirely different season.  Chris Nixon has done a phenomenal job sourcing fresh, local ingredients, including butter made from his own cow.  He steps just across the parking lot to grab the freshest, in season produce at the Sylvania Farmer’s Market, so each week you’re getting a different experience. 

I don’t want to tell you too much because part of the fun is the dinner event itself.

Trust me when I say, Ohio has never tasted so good. 

 

 

How To Grill Pizza.

Grilling pizza is something we do a lot over the summer since there is no need to heat up the oven.  I’ve covered using pre-cooked crust and popping it directly onto the grill grates and a yummy barbeque chicken pizza before.  Today I’m going to share with you a fun tip on how we grill homemade pizza dough.

While you can use the direct grill method, the crust tends to burn a bit on the bottom when you use a dough.  We’ve also used the indirect method, where you turn on two burners at high and leave two off, putting the pizza on the ‘off’ side and using the grill like an oven.  That one is good too, but it kind of defeats the purpose of grilling if you’re doing it like an oven.  Now, I want to introduce you to the elevated method.

The what?

The elevated method.  It consists of building an elevated cooking rack and putting the pizza dough on that to cook.  It gets it just enough away from the heat that it doesn’t burn, but close enough that it still gets that great crunchy crust.  We use a veggie grill basket that has a removable handle with a metal cooling rack on top.  {Those are Amazon Affiliate links to the two specific things we use.}  You can also use a couple empty tin cans or fire bricks in lieu of the veggie basket if you have those available to you.  Just make sure it’s stable so your pizza doesn’t end up falling all over the grill.

After you build your rack, preheat the grill to 500 degrees.  You will want to cook the pizza around 450 degrees but as you open the lid the temp will go down.

Get all of your toppings ready to go and roll out your dough.  {I don’t care one bit if you get the pre-done dough in the refrigerator section or buy it at your local store or Trader Joes.}  We use a recipe from a bread book that Dave has had for years.  There are tons and tons of recipes out there if you like to make your own.  

 

Put the dough on the elevated rack and grill for a minute or two, then flip it and top it with anything you like.  We don’t have a pizza peel, we just use a giant spatula to flip ours.

 

Close the lid and let it cook for 8 – 12 minutes depending on how done you like it and how much stuff you put on it.  To pull it off the grill, you can just slide it onto a cookie sheet.  We’ve been stacking ours with mozzarella, pepperoni, and sliced Roma tomatoes right out of the garden sprinkled with some Italian seasoning.Then right before serving we top it with loads of fresh basil from the garden.

I’m totally going to miss summer when it’s gone.

Quiet Time.

I do much better in a room of 33 than a room of 473,733… which is how many of you visited me here in the last seven days.

If the words almost half a million people don’t freak you out, allow me to put it in perspective for you.  That is TEN times the normal amount of visitors I have in a month.  In seven days.

It was so completely unexpected.  Except to Dave apparently, who said, “Michelle, you’ve been writing good stuff for five years, I’m actually kind of surprised it hasn’t happened before.”  Now you all know exactly why I married him.  He also wanted me to tell everyone on the internet that he does indeed love fat chicks with hairy legs, well… just one fat chick with hairy legs.  <<—THAT WAS SARCASM.  He said you’re going to have to get your own though because clearly I am taken.  He has also started calling me Lady McFancyPants, Queen of the Internet.

He apparently doesn’t know that the Bloggess is the Queen of the Internet and is also about the nicest human being on the planet.  Jenny, you have no idea what 2 seconds of your time and ‘been there’-ness did for my anxiety level, because it was at an eleven.  Thank you.  You too, Kristin.  And Kristina.  Gigi.  Em.  And Lyndsey and Elise, my mom, Jen and Emily and Amy who all caught me hyperventilating into a paper bag.  And Lora, you.  A whole really lot.

I love to have people over, but sweet baby Jane.  I can’t get anything accomplished when you all are double dipping, drinking all of my wine, and playing the music too loud.  This week you get me, back to normal, mouth no longer completely agape at the insanity, and slightly less rant-y than my Moms, When Are You Going to Learn post.

It’s still the weekend, go have some fun.

PS.  I like you guys.

How Do You Know When You’re Done?

This discussion has been had in our house a hundred times.

We’ve always said we’d have two.  Always.  But now?  I’m not so sure.

For those of you who have been reading for ages, you will know that Finn and Tate didn’t come easily.  The getting pregnant process was an arduous one.  Finnegan was conceived on Clomid, Tate on a combination of FSH and Femara.  The whole process was met with one obstacle and hurdle after the next. 

Then, there was the whole matter of Dave having to put me into an ambulance.  That, my friends, is a difficult thing to watch for anyone.  He can’t do that again and I?  I understand it completely.  What he went through was far worse than what I did.   Sure, I was the one who felt the pain, but that isn’t the worst of it. 

The worst is that he watched it all and remembers things with a non-morphine induced perspective.   He had to answer questions about which circumstances it would be ok to revive me and whether or not I had a living will or medical power of attorney.  That isn’t an easy task when it’s thrown in your face.

He’s done, that Dave of mine.  He has squashed the idea of a third like a bug with one little phrase, “no more fertility drugs.”  Trust me when I say, I hear him. 

But I also feel a little tug tug tug on my heart strings, a whisper asking me if I’m really done.

How do you know for sure?  Did you end up with the number of children you had hoped for?  Did you and your spouse ever disagree about that number?