Ever since Mr. P made his first pizza, he’s been in a pizza craze. On weekdays, when we’re wondering what we should eat for dinner each evening, he will get excited if I say okay to home-cooked pizzas. He will scour the Foodland supermarket near his office for all the necessary ingredients and then lugged them home for his little kitchen adventure.
But I’m not complaining. It’s really lovely having a buddy who’s as crazy over food—we often spend hours reminiscing about our favourite meals—but it feels even nicer to have a husband who loves whipping up food for you. Do you want me to help you? I’d ask but he always reject me. No, you just rest and play with your iPad.
This evening Mr. P made yet another parma ham pizza. I suggested adding eggs to the pizza because I just got the inspiration from some food magazine/blog somewhere. The Cockroach was set into action once again; it hummed and rustled, warming up the pizza in its belly. When it ‘pinged’ at exactly the 10th minute, Mr. P opened the lid and popped two eggs over the pizza, and then exclaimed, “It looks like a pair of eyes!”
Indeed. And then the Cockroach continued rumbling for another five minutes. Ping! We retrieved the pizza from its heated depth, and the aroma of melted cheese mingling with slightly charred pizza edges filled the living room. Since pizza
looks set to be is already a regular dinner menu so we had already purchased a pizza wheel. And as usual I gave the Pizza Boy the honour of cutting his own concoction.
There were only two of us sharing the pizza, so we just cut it into half. Jit lang jit pua, as Mr. P loves to say—and sing. It’s one the few Hokkien phrases he knew, which he picked up when he watched Royston Tan’s 881 a few years ago. Just like food, happiness and all things lovely, it’s best when it’s shared.
jit lang jit pua gam qing buai swa…