{"id":153245,"date":"2013-04-25T19:08:00","date_gmt":"2013-04-25T19:08:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/localmilkblog.com\/?p=153245"},"modified":"2023-06-26T17:13:43","modified_gmt":"2023-06-26T17:13:43","slug":"rapini-rosemary-potato-pizza-on-buttermilk-crust","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/localmilkblog.com\/2013\/04\/rapini-rosemary-potato-pizza-on-buttermilk-crust.html","title":{"rendered":"RAPINI & ROSEMARY POTATO PIZZA ON BUTTERMILK CRUST"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Spring, sprang, sprung. It did it. Finally. I think. There are a lot of fat bees, and I don\u2019t feel the urge to curse under my breath during my morning tip toe to the shower. As a matter of fact, I don\u2019t even have to tip toe. I can walk quite flat footed & hum pop songs and towel off without shivering. So, yes, it must be spring. There are blossoms everywhere, cherry trees and daffodils, cobalt spindly things and white lacy blooms and yellow twining vines. You can tell I know a lot about flowers. I steal them. Really. I drive around my neighborhood so slowly it\u2019s suspicious and leap out, shears in hand, and snip flowers. I don\u2019t steel the good ones or the precious ones. Mostly the raucous, prolific ones or maybe even weeds. But hey, free flowers.<\/p>\n

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These are my months. Months of nettles and asparagus, spring chicken and lamb. Everything bursting forth and brimming, young and sweet. Spring is as delicious as childhood and just as ephemeral besides. I always feel a little frantic actually, a little desperate to catch every last drop of\u00a0springiness\u00a0and luxuriate in it, soak every bit up before summer comes hulking in with it\u2019s\u00a0pubescent\u00a0produce, and it\u2019s strapping, husky heat. Don\u2019t get me wrong, summer\u2019s superb and you\u2019ll almost never catch me complaining about the heat. I have, apparently, lizard blood. But spring is poetry. Just ask every poet ever. They know a thing.<\/p>\n

In my attempts to bathe in the essence of spring (and of course the essence of anything is food, right?) I always end up with a little bit more produce from the farmer\u2019s market than I know what to do with. And then come the spring pizzas, marching out of my blazing hot oven, slipped off a cornmeal dusted stone with a peel, on a weekly, even bi-weekly basis. And let me tell you why. For one: bread. Everyone loves bread but no one loves bread more than me. Except maybe Patrick. That boy loves bread. Two: cheese. That is all. Three: I am cheap, cheap as dirt. And so is pizza dough from scratch, so we get along.<\/p>\n

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So you\u2019ve got bread & cheese, the backbone of any self respecting meal. Then you\u2019ve nothing more to do than add whatever is in your fridge. And I mean whatever. If potatoes and rapini can be as delicious on a pizza as they are, I assure you, pretty much everything is. The same principles as a sandwich apply I guess. But yes, get outside the\u00a0pepperoni\u00a0and margherita box (though make no mistake, those are both excellent<\/i>\u00a0pizzas). Step right out. Look in your fridge. What\u2019s that bag of stuff taunting you, threatening to go bad on you at any given moment & riddle you with guilt? Yeah, put that guy on a pizza. And laugh. Oh how you will laugh. And eat. And laugh. And you will pizza & do the twist, and life will be spring and so grand.<\/p>\n

Oh, and put and egg on it y\u2019all.<\/p>\n

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