I’ve been making pizza from scratch for a good long while now. I started when Ginger and I were living in the apartment in Chicago and I got a bread making recipe book that had a really good pizza crust recipe in it. I would up serving that pizza at parties and for guests to many favorable reviews and continued to make it when we moved out to the house in the burbs but eventually started using a pre-made dough that a local grocer offered. It made things much easier and didn’t taste all that different and I’d actually grown to like it even a little better than the recipe I started with.

Eventually it became a tradition to make it for the kids, one I very much enjoyed. It’s really nice to be able to make something for someone where that’s their favorite of that thing, I was always happy to do it. Well, just recently my oldest decided that my pizza is no longer his favorite, even so much as he didn’t eat any of it when it was served and opted eventually for something else that night for dinner. At first I was a little rattled, wondering the whole time if I’d somehow screwed up the recipe or maybe did something slightly different that would throw him off. He’s actually very sensitive to little changes in food and has been for a long time, it would not have surprised me if it was a small misstep that I was unaware of that threw him. At least I hope it was that, until it happened again.

With Charlie’s relatively recent expansion of his palette, I can’t take it too personally and really shouldn’t even if that wasn’t the case. My tastes have changed over the past few years to include things that I wouldn’t have ever considered eating previously so I understand how it all comes around eventually. I do hope I can find something that he enjoys me cooking for him but with as much as I cook lately it’ll probably be a bit before that happens.