Nephew #1 keeping his work space clean, as per instructions.
About a month ago, my nephews came to visit. For one overnight stay, they brought with them each two suitcase filled with clothes, movies, toys, trucks, and books. I should have charged my sister an overweight baggage fee. In one bag, there were bathing suits, goggles, and diving rings. For mid-February and staying at a house without a pool, one couldn't help but applaud their wishful thinking.
After about fifteen minutes in a "boring house", they were hungry and the hounds were hiding under the table. Luckily, we had spent the last few days preparing for just such an emergency. It began two days prior, when Lindsay spent the better part of a week making a pizza sauce from scratch. My protestations to just puree a can of tomatoes with some garlic and olive oil only got me The Look. Apparently the nephews would need serious proof to revoke their fried shrimp and white rice diet.
The day before they arrived, I began making a pizza dough. This dough recipe came from Tariq Hanna of Sucre and if you read this in a slight British accent you will get the same results: "2 cups water, 3 cups of flour or so, a package of yeast. Combine it, park it in the fridge overnight. Next day, add another 3 cups of flour and let rise in a bowl covered with a towel for a few hours. Now, quit bothering me."
After making the dough and since it was only eleven p.m. the night before we were having company over, it made perfect sense to start in on some ice cream. While in New York, we made the pilgrimage to Momofuku Milk Bar for the world renowned cereal milk ice cream. At some point after this, the idea of Oreo cookie milk ice cream entered my brain. Into a pan went about a row of Oreos with some cream. These steeped for about 10 minutes before I strained the cream, added milk, and sugar. Then proceed with ice cream base. After churning, I added in a cup of chopped Oreos and then parked in the freezer. Cookies and Cream ice cream, in case you needed me to finish the obvious for you.
We rolled out pizzas, throwing dough in the air, and putting flour in crevices all over the kitchen. Sitting in front of the oven, the nephews and hounds delighted as pizzas crusted and turned bubbly and brown. They added whatever toppings they liked, but I drew the line at adding anything from their suitcases. After the pizzas were devoured and the ice cream polished off, Nephew #2 headed upstairs. "Where you going," I asked.
"I'm tired," he said.
He had a point.