I Gotta Call My Momma

So I go over to my friend Jackson's for dinner last Friday. We had been talking about our favourite white trash food from when we were younguns, and discovered we both had fond memories of Chef Boyardee pizza. So Friday, we done had some. I wish I had taken pictures of it, so that those of you who haven't had the pleasure of this processed, sterilized foodstuff could understand how great it is. You open the box, and inside is a pouch, a tall can, and a short can. The pouch has the crust ingredients; just add water. The tall can has the sauce; pour it on! The short can has powdered parmesan cheese; sprinkle it over the sauce. You're done!

Jackson did a fabulous job preparing the stuff. Looked just like I remember it from when my mom made it for me. (sniff!) By the way, it don't look nuthin' like the picture to the right. Maybe if you added your own fresh cheese, but not unadulterated right out of the box. No, it looked flat and bland and unappetizing and that was PERFECT! It tasted just like my tastebuds remembered it. Fabulous.

Better yet, Jackson had an extra added surprise for me. When I was a wee youth, my favourite variety of Chef Boyardee pizza was "sausage". Well, they don't make "sausage" anymore, jsut cheese and pepperoni. I had groused to Jackson about the loss of the sausage version of Chef Boyardee, and dig this--he made sausage sauce BASED SOLELY ON MY DESCRIPTION. I had told him that the sausage sauce was almost granular, so he blended the hell out of some italian sausage in his food processor, mixed it in the Chef Boyardee sauce, and damn if it didn't taste and feel almost exactly right. Such an amazing friend, that Jackson Hall.