When I suggested to Tom that I make chicken finger pizza for dinner tonight, he laughed at me. "Yes! Make it tonight. Because it's going to suck."

Now even I'll admit that I cannot make pizza-place pizza. I do not have an 800-degree oven. I do not have a pizza stone. (Until today, I did not even have a pizza cooking sheet.) I do not have copious amounts of grease around.

BUT. Tom's faith in my cooking has been bolstered again.

I snagged a pre-made Boboli crust (because I do not have faith in my lack of yeast abilities). Buffalo-Style Chicken Pizza, and, following the suggestion of a reviewer, I skipped the pre-made blue cheese dressing and instead made Bill's Blue Cheese Dressing - with a little less mayo, and a splash of balsamic vinegar.

The recipe calls for just tossing the chicken with butter and hot sauce. BORING. I cooked the chicken iiiin: some splashes of Frank's Red Hot, a bit of pepper, a bit of salt, some smoked paprika, a bit of chili powder. Added more of pretty much everything as I went, so that the chicken by itself was all nice and flavored. I used a bit of Tabasco in with the Frank's for the sauce-sauce. Threw a bit of cheddar in with the mozzarella.

Tom came down just as I was putting the pizza together. I had too much chicken for the amount of dough real-estate, so Tom sampled some. His eyeballs bugged out. "THAT... is pizza-flavored chicken." It so is. I nailed it perfectly. He tried some of the blue cheese on the pizza. "MMMMM!!! Oh, honey..."

I. WIN.

It's not even cooked yet, and I sototally win. XD

Labels: cooking