Slice of Home

Ah, the midlife crisis. Some men resort to ridiculously expensive cars. Others to scandalous affairs. But in my household, with a Sicilian father and a mother who loves to cook, there was only one possible, logical indulgence: a pizza oven.

My dad had a pizza built in the backyard about 6 years ago. What seemed to some like a silly extravagance turned into a vehicle for a family tradition.

            

With my mom’s fresh tomato sauce, caramelized onions, mozzarella, various salami and prosciutto and arugula at our disposal, we create our different pizzas which my brother cooks to perfection as my dad offers unwanted input.


And in the end, it doesn’t matter how many times my dad corrects my brother on how he’s handling the pizzas or who consumed the most pizza. The most important thing is that it has remained a family tradition. With the oldest kid in my family 25 and the youngest 19, we still come together every summer to make pizza. I’m off to Elon in 1 week and 1 day and am starting to get the knots in my stomach. But nights with family friends and loved ones surrounding our crazy family, it couldn’t feel more like home.

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