Making pizza is one of the great joys of cooking for me. It was one of the first things I learned to make from my mother, who would only make it every once in a great while. This caused my brothers and I to plead for it all the time using birthdays and accomplishments as a justification in hopes of convincing her. Looking back, I’m not sure she was doing anything difficult, but she preferred to make the dough from scratch, and that would end up being a two-day process for someone that worked every day and cooked for her family every night. Plus, with 3 sons and our father, you had to make quite a few pizzas to meet our hungry demands. I certainly understand now why it ended up being such a rare occasion for her. Now that I’m an adult, I end up making homemade pizza quite a few times a year. Nowadays, specifically for cocktail and dinner parties.