“Look how late it is!” Mitch
muttered at his watch. Robby just looked at him. He didn’t quite shake his
head, but he was thinking it.
“We must have wandered around behind that Ranger station for hours, but I can’t figure how. There was nothing going on. Maybe I’m getting slow..” said Mitch, as if to himself.
“Remember that big raven?” said Robby. “It was like it was keeping an eye on us. I didn’t know they were that snoopy.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We better take off. It’ll be dark by the time we get in,” said Mitch. He seemed dazed almost, but then he and skinny Robby had eaten a whole large deep dish Timber Topper and had drunk two beers each.
Robby followed Mitch out to the Land Cruiser. They got in, belted up, and Mitch drove south.
Inside Lou’s, Evelyn plopped down in one of those maple chairs beside Ranger Rick. She dug him in the ribs from the right side with her left elbow.
“How’d I do, Rick?” she said.
“I’d say that if you didn’t convince ‘em, you confused ‘em, Ev. Thanks!” said Rick.
“I think ol’ Colonel Sanders thought I was wrapped a little loose. Don’t know what the boy wonder thought. He’s a little harder to read,” said Evelyn.
“Hey, Ev, do you think I could get a recipe for this thing? Sometimes I do a little cooking, and I don’t always want to drive to Loggerville,” said Rick, grinning like a kid.
“I can try,” said Evelyn. She picked up Rick’s pizza pan, his plate and his glass. Then she trotted over to Mitch and Robby’s deserted table and put their pan underneath Rick’s, and put their two plates on his, and gathered up the two glasses too. With the ease of long practice she took this whole pile to the kitchen door and backed in, pushing the swinging door with her backside. Once inside, she deposited the stack in the sink back there.
Tony, the cook and present owner, was sitting on a stool by the open back door smoking a Camel. He was exactly what you would expect. 5’8” of wiry Italian in his 50s, going a bit gray around the whiskers. He smiled at Evelyn, emitting some smoke.
“Hey, Tony. One of the guys out there wants to know how to make a Timber Topper. I know it’s not a matter of recipe exactly, but if you don’t mind, could he have it?” she said. “It’s Rick. He’s OK.”
“I don’t care, Ev. He’ll make one and decide it’s too much like work and head back to Lou’s to get one the easy way,” laughed Tony. “You tell him this. Write it down.”
She took down the clipboard hanging by the back door, got out a clean sheet of paper, and prepared to write. There was a cheap pen tied to the clipboard, so it wouldn’t get lost.
“He’s going to have leftover ingredients if he does it my way. Maybe he will have to make a couple of them,” said Tony. “It’s more of a method than a recipe.”
“This is for a big one. Tell him to look up a plain bread recipe. Make about a three or four cup of flour batch of plain white bread dough first. Depends on how much crust he wants. When it’s risen enough. I hope he has something big enough to make a pizza in. It doesn’t have to be round. Anything flat will work.
“Ok, stretch and pat the dough out all over the pan. Let it rise again.
“Then he’s going to need some of Mutti’s best tomato puree. Comes in a bottle. Spread some of that over the dough in the pan. He’ll know when he’s got enough. He should salt and pepper it lightly. There’s no salt in the tomatoes.
“Next, drizzle good olive oil over the tomatoes. Not too much. Maybe a quarter of a cup. Now the rest of it is in layers. First I lay down Canadian bacon to cover. Then a layer of whole milk mozzarella sliced in nice slices, to almost cover. Then I put on a couple dozen Greek olives, pitted of course.
“Sauté up a pound of Italian sausage, drain it, and scatter it around on the rest. These guys don’t know it, but I put some little bits of anchovy in there too. Gives it some punch. You can tell him. He might do it.
“Next, slices of sweet onion, then some green pepper, or jalapeno slices. Depends, does he want some hot or not? I put in a few slices of tomato. Better if it’s those dry tomato paste variety if he can get them. Or not. The tomatoes give it a lot of good moisture. I scatter chopped garlic and crumble some Greek Oregano over it. Then another layer of cheese slices. It’s going to take two pounds of cheese before he’s done building this thing. I’d put some Feta on it too, if he can get good Feta.
“Preheat his oven to 400℉. Put the whole deal in there and bake it until it looks like a pizza. Take a look at it after 20 minutes. It might be done! That’s about the best I can tell him for home cooking, Ev,” said Tony finally. “You get all that?”
“Got it, Tony. I might try this at home myself!” said Evelyn. “Not really,” she laughed. “I know a place to get pizza.”
“I forgot to say some fresh basil leaves on top, after baking and cooling a little are a fancy touch and add a wonderful scent,” said Tony, puffing on a new smoke.
“Think Rick will really do it?” asked Tony.
“Maybe. I think so. That’s a lot of pizza. He might have to share it with a big guy he knows out there in the woods,” said Evelyn.
“He got some homeless guy camping in the forest, Ev?” Tony frowned.
“No, no. This guy isn’t homeless,” said Evelyn, with a little smile.
“Thanks, Tony. You’re a good sport, Dude.”
“We must have wandered around behind that Ranger station for hours, but I can’t figure how. There was nothing going on. Maybe I’m getting slow..” said Mitch, as if to himself.
“Remember that big raven?” said Robby. “It was like it was keeping an eye on us. I didn’t know they were that snoopy.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We better take off. It’ll be dark by the time we get in,” said Mitch. He seemed dazed almost, but then he and skinny Robby had eaten a whole large deep dish Timber Topper and had drunk two beers each.
Robby followed Mitch out to the Land Cruiser. They got in, belted up, and Mitch drove south.
Inside Lou’s, Evelyn plopped down in one of those maple chairs beside Ranger Rick. She dug him in the ribs from the right side with her left elbow.
“How’d I do, Rick?” she said.
“I’d say that if you didn’t convince ‘em, you confused ‘em, Ev. Thanks!” said Rick.
“I think ol’ Colonel Sanders thought I was wrapped a little loose. Don’t know what the boy wonder thought. He’s a little harder to read,” said Evelyn.
“Hey, Ev, do you think I could get a recipe for this thing? Sometimes I do a little cooking, and I don’t always want to drive to Loggerville,” said Rick, grinning like a kid.
“I can try,” said Evelyn. She picked up Rick’s pizza pan, his plate and his glass. Then she trotted over to Mitch and Robby’s deserted table and put their pan underneath Rick’s, and put their two plates on his, and gathered up the two glasses too. With the ease of long practice she took this whole pile to the kitchen door and backed in, pushing the swinging door with her backside. Once inside, she deposited the stack in the sink back there.
Tony, the cook and present owner, was sitting on a stool by the open back door smoking a Camel. He was exactly what you would expect. 5’8” of wiry Italian in his 50s, going a bit gray around the whiskers. He smiled at Evelyn, emitting some smoke.
“Hey, Tony. One of the guys out there wants to know how to make a Timber Topper. I know it’s not a matter of recipe exactly, but if you don’t mind, could he have it?” she said. “It’s Rick. He’s OK.”
“I don’t care, Ev. He’ll make one and decide it’s too much like work and head back to Lou’s to get one the easy way,” laughed Tony. “You tell him this. Write it down.”
She took down the clipboard hanging by the back door, got out a clean sheet of paper, and prepared to write. There was a cheap pen tied to the clipboard, so it wouldn’t get lost.
“He’s going to have leftover ingredients if he does it my way. Maybe he will have to make a couple of them,” said Tony. “It’s more of a method than a recipe.”
“This is for a big one. Tell him to look up a plain bread recipe. Make about a three or four cup of flour batch of plain white bread dough first. Depends on how much crust he wants. When it’s risen enough. I hope he has something big enough to make a pizza in. It doesn’t have to be round. Anything flat will work.
“Ok, stretch and pat the dough out all over the pan. Let it rise again.
“Then he’s going to need some of Mutti’s best tomato puree. Comes in a bottle. Spread some of that over the dough in the pan. He’ll know when he’s got enough. He should salt and pepper it lightly. There’s no salt in the tomatoes.
“Next, drizzle good olive oil over the tomatoes. Not too much. Maybe a quarter of a cup. Now the rest of it is in layers. First I lay down Canadian bacon to cover. Then a layer of whole milk mozzarella sliced in nice slices, to almost cover. Then I put on a couple dozen Greek olives, pitted of course.
“Sauté up a pound of Italian sausage, drain it, and scatter it around on the rest. These guys don’t know it, but I put some little bits of anchovy in there too. Gives it some punch. You can tell him. He might do it.
“Next, slices of sweet onion, then some green pepper, or jalapeno slices. Depends, does he want some hot or not? I put in a few slices of tomato. Better if it’s those dry tomato paste variety if he can get them. Or not. The tomatoes give it a lot of good moisture. I scatter chopped garlic and crumble some Greek Oregano over it. Then another layer of cheese slices. It’s going to take two pounds of cheese before he’s done building this thing. I’d put some Feta on it too, if he can get good Feta.
“Preheat his oven to 400℉. Put the whole deal in there and bake it until it looks like a pizza. Take a look at it after 20 minutes. It might be done! That’s about the best I can tell him for home cooking, Ev,” said Tony finally. “You get all that?”
“Got it, Tony. I might try this at home myself!” said Evelyn. “Not really,” she laughed. “I know a place to get pizza.”
“I forgot to say some fresh basil leaves on top, after baking and cooling a little are a fancy touch and add a wonderful scent,” said Tony, puffing on a new smoke.
“Think Rick will really do it?” asked Tony.
“Maybe. I think so. That’s a lot of pizza. He might have to share it with a big guy he knows out there in the woods,” said Evelyn.
“He got some homeless guy camping in the forest, Ev?” Tony frowned.
“No, no. This guy isn’t homeless,” said Evelyn, with a little smile.
“Thanks, Tony. You’re a good sport, Dude.”
🍅
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