Easy Grilled Pizza for a Crowd

I must have been having a psychic moment when I took new photos of a recipe I have posted before. Apparently I foresaw that allergies + two flights = OMGWTFBBQICANNOTEVENTHINKRIGHTNOW.

I'm totally calling it in and reposting my Grilled Pizza recipe. But! Now I have new photos!

Grilled pizza is one of our "people are coming over" foods because it's super easy to prepare for a large crowd. Since everyone selects their own toppings, there is no need to stress over pleasing all of the people all of the time. It's up to them to create their personal version of perfection. You just make the crusts, supply the toppings, and keep an eye on the grill.

Grilled Pizza Crust
(adapted from Fine Cooking September 2004 issue)

1 package active dry yeast
1 1/4 cups warm water
4 1/4 cups flour
2 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup olive olive

1. Stir the yeast into the water and allow it to sit for 15 minutes.

2. Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl. While mixing using low speed on a mixer with a dough hook, slowly add the yeast mixture and the olive oil alternately to the flour. Knead until well combined (using the mixer or on a floured surface by hand), until the dough becomes elastic. The dough should feel soft and be a little bit sticky. If it feels grainy or dry, add more warm water 1 tablespoon at a time.

3. Place the well-kneaded dough into a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a damp dish towel.

4. Allow the dough to rise until it is doubled in size, approximately one hour. The dough is done rising when you poke it and the dough holds the finger poking impression (fancy wording right there, don't you think?).

5. Once the dough is done rising, punch it down and divide it into 8 evenly-sized balls.

6. Roll out each ball using a rolling pin until each circle is approximately 1/4 inch thick (thicker if you prefer thick crust, thinner if you have excellent taste and like crispy crust). You can stack the crusts on a plate by placing a sheet of wax paper in between each one.

And, you have crust. You can do the dough in advance. For example, if you want to make it one day in advance, do all the combining and mixing and kneading, then wrap the dough up and put it in the fridge. It will slowly rise overnight and you can roll it out the next day. It also freezes well--it will rise as it defrosts.

Here are the cooking instructions:

1. Heat the grill to medium. Using a pastry brush, brush olive oil on one side of a crust, and place the crust oil-side down on the grill.

Close the grill lid and wait a few minutes. The first side of the crust is done when it is lightly browned (we like it to get dark brown stripes, but don't like any black burnt crust up in the joint).

2. Brush oil on the uncooked side of the crust and then flip it so that the cooked side is facing up on a plate. Give it to whoever so they can select their sauce and toppings. We like to start with standard red pizza sauce and mozzarella cheese, but we do tend to get fancy with the artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, spinach, Feta cheese, sundried tomatoes, red onions, and whatever else floats our boats that day.

This kid keeps it boring, though.

She goes with plain old red sauce and about 1/3 as much cheese as I would use. She's so weird with her cheese aversion.

3. Once the toppings are on the pizza, place it back on the grill so that you can cook the other side of the crust.

4. It's done when the cheese is the right level of melty. If you are worried that the crust might end up TOO cooked, feel free to move the pizza to the top shelf of the grill while you let the cheese melt.

5. If you are Alexis, you'll notice that there are a bunch of grape tomatoes ready to pick and you'll throw them on top of your pizza as well.

"Momma, What Does This Mean?"

It means it might just be time to start paying attention to the Pirates, my dear.

I Am Not Mark Brown

You know that moment when you're keeping pace with a pack of cars and the highway patrolman pulls out? You know someone is about to get a ticket, and really it's up to him to decide who is going to get lucky that day. He has lots of choices.

It was my turn, apparently.

We were eight hours into our ten-hour drive when the Kentucky State Patrol Officer decided I looked like the best driver for the ticket. I was a little baffled as to how it was possible that the little go cart of a car I was driving was going fast enough up the long, steep hill to warrant a ticket, but whatever. There is no cruise control in that car, so anything is possible. Don't even get me started on the placement of the odometer, by the way. It's in the middle of the car's dash, so it's not within the driver's field of vision. I'm That Person who drives 45 in a 65 at times because I simply can't see how fast I'm going unless I purposely look away from the road.

Anyway.

As the officer approached my window, I grabbed my drivers license and mentally prepared myself for a wave of annoyance. It's never fun to pay a speeding ticket. Never.

We went through the wave of formalities and the officer retreated back to his car. As I waited, I volleyed questions from the Peanut Gallery in the back seat as I dug through the glove compartment identifying things that could be thrown away. Might as well get a little cleaning done while I waited, right?

After what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time, all hell broke loose. The officer approached my window with a pile of paperwork in his hands and said, "Ma'am, are you aware that your license is suspended?"

Time froze. My eyes conveyed, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" My mind added a few dozen adjectives and adverbs to that. My mouth, fortunately, didn't do anything. After a long pause, it finally opened slowly to say, "Uhhh ... no."

"We can't see why in the system, but your license has been suspended," the officer told me. He went on to tell me that he wasn't going to take me into custody since Alexis was with me, nor was he going to call CPS to claim her.

I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP, YOU GUYS.

Obviously, I was losing my mind in all sorts of ways.

As we continued through the conversation, the officer said we could go to the next exit and I could check into a hotel, but I wasn't allowed to drive past that. Because, you know, SUSPENDED LICENSE. The whole conversation took probably ten minutes and involved a lot of me answering questions slowly and deliberately so that I wouldn't say anything stupid. There was only one person in that conversation with any power, and it wasn't me. I blinked a lot, I'm sure. That's what I do when I'm beyond the point of anger.

As the officer followed me to the hotel, I called the husband. He was every bit as confused as I was. Which, RIGHT ANSWER. It's always good to know that your spouse instantly will say, "How the hell is that possible?" when confronted with the knowledge that you've allegedly done something that warrants a suspended license.

You guys, I'm the most boring human on this planet. I like it that way. I walk a straight and narrow path that includes relatively few cusses, no law-breaking, and certainly NOTHING THAT WOULD WARRANT HAVING YOUR LICENSE SUSPENDED. Heck, I stood at the grocery store a few weeks ago and told a cashier that she had just undercharged me $5 when she rang up the wrong code for some produce. I'm pretty sure if I had ever done something that could earn me a suspended license, I would remember it.

When we finally reached the hotel, I started to open the car door to see what the highway patrolman suggested I do next. The first words out of his mouth were, "Can I see that paperwork for a second?" I obliged and he disappeared back into his car.

It was the longest three minutes of my life because Alexis had started BAWLING at that point. She didn't understand what was going on, but she had figured out that we weren't going to our destination that night and SHE WAS VERY NOT HAPPY OMG.

The officer finally stepped back out of his car and smiled a wry, guilt-filled grin as he said, "So, you're not Mark Brown, are you?"

INSERT THE WORLD'S LOUDEST RECORD SCRATCH HERE.

You guys, we were a few miles from Mr. Beam's palace and even fewer miles from the land of Maker's Mark. I was absolutely certain the highway patrolman had been driving around getting a contact drunk because WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ASKING ME IF MY NAME IS MARK BROWN, MR. OFFICER WHO I WOULD LIKE TO REFER TO BY ANOTHER NAME BUT WON'T BECAUSE STRAIGHT AND NARROW AND BORING.

APPARENTLY when Mr. Officer called in my driver's license number, two results came up. APPARENTLY he didn't think to double-check that before crashing my entire universe and acting like he was doing me a favor by not arresting me on the spot. APPARENTLY it is Mark Brown who has a suspended license and has a warrant out for his arrest. APPARENTLY I WISH I COULD PUNCH THAT OFFICER IN THE FACE BUT I WON'T BECAUSE STRAIGHT AND NARROW AND BORING OMG.

"You're free to go," he said as he STILL HANDED ME A STUPID FREAKIN' SPEEDING TICKET FOR GOING 10 MPH OVER THE STUPID FREAKIN SPEED LIMIT.

Call me crazy, but I think if you make my kid cry as you wrongly accuse me of committing a crime, YOU OWE ME. BIG. ALL OF THE THINGS. EVERYTHING.

So, long story short, don't speed in Kentucky. They'll screw up as they run your driver's license number and make a giant ordeal out of the fact that you have a suspended license when in all actuality, you don't. At all. Not even close.

BECAUSE I AM NOT MARK FREAKIN BROWN.