Test Kitchen

There is nothing more depressing to me these days than dinner. Now this is coming from a girl who loves to cook and loves to eat. The problem here in Morocco is finding the ingredients to make what you really, really want to eat when you really, really want to eat it. But, what's even worse about making dinner here? Moroccan kitchens are completely segregated from the rest of the house. So it's like the cook is condemned to solitary confinement. Which is of course completely different from what I'm used to. An American kitchen is the heart of a home. It's where the party's always at. And the party never ends and the people never leave.

That's the short sweet sanitized version of my dinner depression anyway. Oh, I could go into excruciating detail. But if I do, you'd lose your appetite for whatever deliciousness is in store for your next meal.

I don't remember if I've mentioned this before, but I'm a total food slut and recipe whore. I prefer to say that I just love food, not that I'm over easy. (Get it? Sorry, we've been eating a lot of eggs lately.) So anyway, I got this recipe from my friend Sara a while ago. She swore up and down it was good. I like to experiment with food, but this just sounded way too unconventional (and healthy) to actually be good. I'm pretty sure I called her a big fat liar.

Because how on earth could cauliflower pizza crust be good? HOW?

So I decided to test it on my unsuspecting kids. Who should really be a bit more suspicious by this stage in the game. The thing is, I've tried a lot of homemade pizza crusts. But, I haven't found one that we really like yet.

So I get out my overused, but clinging to life food processor and my scrubbed head of cauliflower and I go to town shredding. This is while I'm carefully holding my hand over the hole in the top that I inflicted on it a few months ago when I dropped it, trying to prevent cauliflower from pelting me. But it still did.

Exhibit A:


(It looked far worse in person. And on my person.)

I decided I should make a big salad to supplement this pizza, which come on is probably really gonna suck. Not having any decent lettuce at the store today I headed to the garden where our romaine is coming up. A little anyway.

EXHIBIT B:



After the cauliflower was shredded and cooked in the microwave I added the cheese, eggs, garlic, garlic salt and oregano. (That's it people. There is no flour in this crust. At all.)

EXHIBIT C:



And I baked it. Or was I the one that was baked because that's when I remembered that I forgot to spray the pan with oil. Duh.
I will need to supplement...

EXHIBIT D:



At least we'll have the world's smallest salad to rescue us from this impending disaster of a dinner.

EXHIBIT E:



I added sauce and topping and it looks good right? Except now I have to get it off the pan.

EXHIBIT F:



And then it doesn't look so good right? It looks like mush. So right there the kids are probably not going to like it because it requires a fork.

So, I know the question you're asking yourself. Is Sara a big fat liar?

The kids start to eat.

"Where'd you get this recipe?", Sky inquires.

"From Sara.", I deadpanned.

"You need to keep it. This is awesome!"

So then and over eager Craig is like "Tell them what it is!" I personally would have waited until they were done eating to make the big reveal. But since Craig already blew it, I really had no choice but to tell them. And River, my picky non-vegetable eating child, paused momentarily before he said, "Who cares." And resumed shoveling forkfuls of cauliflower pizza mush into his mouth. I'm not lying!

And of course neither was Sara.

EXHIBIT G:



This is all that was left of two large pizzas. And the world's smallest salad? It wasn't even touched.

If you too would like to try this recipe out on some unsuspecting people in your life you can find the recipe here at Eat. Drink. Smile. Just don't forget to oil the pan. Duh!