It’s been a while since we’ve posted anything. Truth is, the boys have been busy building their pizza empire and back at Widow HQ we have been riding on their hot roquito pepper coat tails trying to keep up. We continue to feel sorry for ourselves as the pizzas literally unfold before us, dressed with an array of sexy toppings that we cannot compete with.
We soldier on.
Things to report…
We’re pleased with the new merch. Widows got treated to a tshirt and sweater shirt. #silverlining
We are making a Widow music video. (It will be average, like our lives, as we fade in to the background our voices and presence must find other avenues to be heard.)
Mikee now has a family of pizza peels on the truck. Mikee loves a peel. (It’s ok Gwen he loves you too…)
A teenage mutant ninja turtle beamed from ear to ear as he walked out of the kids party with his pizza and parents.
Pop Up Pizza’s first kids party seemed to go down a storm with kids and parents alike. Post bouncy castle, a game of limbo and what can only be described as a toilet paper shredding frenzie (and that was just the adults!) the 30 kids tucked into margheritas and ham pizza. American Psycho and Fun Guy pizzas were brought out for parents.
In helping the party organiser to clear up at the end, I tried to get one if the little girls to help me. Asking her “how about we see how many pieces of napkin you can pick up. Can you get 10?” I said in my most motivating, teacher-like voice. Silence. Then, “No” she said, looking at me suspiciously…or was it with mild distain? Hard to tell.
I left with a slightly damaged ego and perforated ear drum.
We pizza widows solider on.
On the plus side, there was a little girl there dressed as Iron Man (rock on) and another as a My Little Pony – rainbow leotard, white leggings and rainbow ribbon main. Superb inspiration for my 2016 summer festival costumes.
Pizza widow takes it easy with the pug on a plug.
Tonight, I popped into The Crown pub after rehearsal at about 9.30pm to see the truck’s first trading night and they were going great guns! Busy pub, happy pizza eating customers. Bravo boys!
I couldn’t do me pizza runner duties tonight (bad widow) so ventured home about 10.30 and took a late night bath with a plastic pug and some aromatic salts.
It is my absolute pleasure to announce today that I am stepping up and into some big shoes. I’m walking out onto the main stage, as it were, and I might be so bold as to say that my role as a Pizza Widow has never been more crucial.
Today the pizzaiolo himself has asked me to…BRACE YOURSELF…
Keep an eye on his balls.
Yes ladies and gents…his precious, beautiful dough balls. I am to keep a close eye and check his balls every couple of hours. All day. Without fail.
It’s a very delicate procedure and too much time in room temperature could mean serious over swelling!! Offfft. My role also includes taking pictures and sending them on to Mike precisely on time. It’s actually quite nerve-wracking. What you might not understand is that these lovely little balls are… well…his babies, his pride and joy.
Now…If I’m completely honest with you this level of responsibility fills me with fear…
Ohhh hark at me!! There’s no time for self pity! I’m playing a pivotal role today in the pizza making process…tea making and back office business can do one!! I’m reaching new heights! This is it…will I be a ball maker…or A BALL BREAKER!!????
I guess the proof of the pizza is in the eating!!! Wish me luck.
We’ve known for some time that Gav and Mike’s new pizza partnership was a match made in heaven. The pizza widows have come to terms with the late night pillow pizza talk, the early morning emails (Mike sent one to Gav at 2.37am on Valentine’s Day), the twosome research dates to Borough Market, Mike showing Gav how to make the dough (think Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore and the potting wheel in Ghost).
As this love affair blossoms the pizza widows quietly fold pizza boxes in the background. Sigh.
[but we still get to taste everything every week so we aren’t complaining!]
I’ve been sat on the lazy boy all week, nursing a bad back and working from a more reclined (and I like to think refined…who am I kidding?!) position.
My view from the Boy is our lounge window and lovely street. Or rather, now it’s the pizza truck, the black beast, the black beauty.
I decided to take a photo of the view and in doing so realised it was all a bit hazy. No I hadn’t had too much Baileys on my Meusli, the windows were a trifle dirty. No, actually they were filthy. So at 8am this morning I took to the street in my dressing gown and slippers, and I cleaned my windows. (Obviously I have nothing else I’d rather be doing on a Saturday morning…!). FML.
Slippers are now soggy. FML.
I took a before and after cleaning shot.
I realise this is probably not the most riviting post you’ve read to date. Promise I’ll try harder next time.
Pizza Widows are doing there very best to be super supportive in menu development, tasting each new recipe that appears out of the fire on Sunday evenings.
Ph: Salsiccia e Friarelli & bones
When we started we tasted everything. It is so bloody tasty. But the thing is we soon realised that we needed to be strategic with our tastebuds (and waistlines*). So we have (reluctantly) employed the crust dumping technique (kids, please don’t try this at home). Eat the inney bit but not the outey bit. “But the dough is so goooooood….” Repeats my inner monologue, a mental torture as I shred my way through the inner circle of toppings. “Just a little more…” It coaxes as I near the leoparded crust. I pause and stare at the crust in my hand as it realises it won’t fulfil its destiny. I toss the bone onto the pile in the used pizza box coffin. “Farewell old chum.” Sigh.
It goes against every grain of my being. I grew up in a house where if you didn’t eat your dinner you were served it for breakfast. Nothing went to waste.
We Pizza Widows will soldier on. It’s particularly difficult work when you get a sweet roquito pepper & mozarella in the inner circle that accidentally on purpose ends up in your mouth. #nooffswitch
*our waistlines & widow brains were so exhausted from pizza chit chat , we took them to the spa on Monday. My waistline particularly enjoyed the Prosecco. More on that next time.
Pizza widows braved arctic conditions with the pizza truck boys on Tuesday for a wood fired oven trial. Couldn’t feel our toes by the end of the night but the pizza was well worth it. Hot toddies and a new pizza dance kept us warm. That and ninja thermal wear. Sexy.
Everyday is a school day right? So I have learned 2 new words recently. Leoparding and doming. No we are not cooking leopards in the oven or perfecting the art of making domes. In pizza jargon, leoparding is when the dough gets little leopard spots or charred bubbles on the surface of the pizza. Doming is when the pizza king (that’s Gwen’s dude) takes what looks like a big paddle (this paddle makes white water rafting aficionados look like pussies), scoops the pizza up and holds it just under the flames in the dome of the oven. Yeah, doming. This aids the leoparding too. So there you have it, this is pub quiz knowledge 101 right here. More next time.