I'm writing 200 words based on a emoji, daily. Today's emoji 🍕 also happens to be the topic of the week! Yaaay! Two birds one stone. Or should we say, 2 toppings one pizza.
Sunday mornings in London. The house is still asleep, but I'm eager to start. A quick wash up, and I fly down to the kitchen. What a lovely summer morning. Faint golden light streaming through the frosted glass windows, and as I swing open the backdoor, a cool breeze brings the summer into the kitchen. What a perfect way to start a Sunday of baking, cooking and making. This Sunday routine came about almost by happenstance, but deep inside I suspect I needed it. I was in a tough headspace then, and cooking was healing. There's no better act of self care than to lovingly prepare food that your body takes in. The body takes the food, the soul takes the love, and the gut, pizza. Yes, pizza made from scratch.
I boil the tomatoes slow over a small heat to get the sauce. The house is then slowly perfumed with the tangy yet wholesome aroma of tomatoes. I make the crust, playing with a flour mound, adding some yeast, salt and water. And the fun part arrives - kneading the pizza dough. It's like play, yet really invigorating as well as I put my arms to work. Then the dough gets to rest and rise, as I take a break too with morning tea.
A few hours later, home-made thin-crust pizza will be ready. But the best part of pizza isn't the eating. It is in the waiting. Sitting out on the steps of the backdoor, gazing at the grass, the flowers, the shrubs in my backyard. Nary a sound or movement on this lazy Sunday morning. Warm tea in hand, delicious pizza in tummy, to come.
Sunday mornings in London.