A pizza addict. Me. The person writing this post. The person slinging these pies and taking these photographs. I do have a problem, but do I need help? Asking for help is the first step. But I don’t want help, especially with pizza—a more whole wheat sourdough pizza dough—this good. And besides, I have some dough in bulk fermentation right now, I couldn’t possibly let it go to waste. Ok, one more round of pizza, I’ll write this post, then take a good long break, ok? Deal.
The Addiction1 means I’ve made some form of this pizza dough at least once, sometimes twice—or even thrice—a week since midsummer. One might think my desire to eat all this pizza would wane, after all, how much pizza is too much pizza? As it turns out (and as evidenced on Instagram), my upper bound on pizza consumption never really materializes. This is not because of some twisted gluttony I have for pizza, it’s just simply because it’s so good, and so dang easy.
I talk about it like it’s sitting right here next to me as I write this.↩