A few weeks ago, I was watching the Pizza Hut commercials.
It was the only restaurant I’d ever seen on TV.
It reminded me of my childhood.
My dad was a pizza fan and loved pizza, so I used to order him pizza whenever he came home from work.
Pizza was a part of every family, and I always wanted one when I grew up.
And then one day, my mom decided that she wanted to try to get pizza made at her restaurant.
But before she could, she needed to go to the restaurant.
“I needed to order the pizza,” she told me.
“So I go to Pizza Hut and ask for a pizza.
It’s a little bit embarrassing to tell you, but it’s really easy.”
“I need a pizza, because you can’t eat the pizza!”
I had never heard that phrase before.
My parents were both trained in the kitchen and my mom knew how to make pizza.
We were both in the process of learning how to do the dishes at the time, so we could cook for our family.
She brought home a pizza with her from the store and we shared it with my sister and dad.
“My mom just made it for us,” my dad told me later.
“It’s just a normal pizza.
And she gave us a big smile.”
My mother knew what she was doing.
“She’s just good at cooking,” she said.
But she knew it would be a bit difficult.
She wasn’t a trained chef.
She had no culinary training, and there were only so many ways to prepare pizza, and she was struggling to find a recipe that she liked.
So, she came up with the idea to make a pizza that could be shared, and that’s when she knew that she needed the pizzas.
The pizza was called a “sausage pie,” and the pizza shop I grew out of was called The Pizza Hut.
The name of the restaurant came from a phrase in Italian that means, “a sausage pie.”
It’s just sausage and pepperoni stuffed with cheese and sauce, and you can enjoy the sausage on a pizza as a slice.
The idea for the pizza was born in the fall of 2014.
My mom was the one who came up in the spring with the ideas for the recipe.
“In the summer of 2015, I started thinking about how we could do this,” my mom told me in a video that we shared.
I wanted to make sure I was prepared for the first pizza that I would make.
She told me to look for the best ingredients to make the pizza.
I found the best recipe for sausage and peppers and basil in the oven.
And so the first pie was born.
“The pizza that my mom made for us was amazing,” I said.
“But my mom was really hard on herself,” my sister told me, and it’s what got me into the restaurant business in the first place.
When I heard her say it, I knew I was in for a challenge.
“And you’ve got to be a better pizza person,” my brother said.
My brother was an absolute pizza fan.
He’s a pizza expert.
“If I told you I’d been eating pizza every day for the past 30 years, I’d be lying,” he said.
So when my mom said that she was in her late 50s and that she hadn’t had pizza in years, my brother agreed with her.
He said that he’d try to make her pizza every single day for 30 years.
“That’s how much I enjoyed it,” my father told me when I told him about the pizza he made.
“He’s just amazing,” my mother told me as we ate the pizza, “he’s just such a great person.
I love it so much.”
And then, my father said, “It has to be good.
You need to be able to eat the Pizza, because it’s so good.”
“And the Pizza,” I told my father, “it’s just so good.
And you’ve gotta do it, because they have the best pizza in the world.”
We sat down and started to make our first pizza.
“You guys can have a slice!” my father joked.
We shared it and started eating.
I was impressed by my dad’s culinary knowledge.
“Oh, I like it,” I joked.
My mother laughed and agreed.
“Good,” she agreed.
So we all took a slice and ate it.
Then, my mother asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make it a pie, so let’s go get it,” she laughed.
And it was my turn to say, “No, no, I want to do it!”
She laughed and told me she’d call my dad.
We had a few more questions, and then my mom walked out of the kitchen, and we went back to eating our pizza.
After my father finished the pizza and my