Ah, it's been quite some time since The Husband and I have had a little
The Husband and I are both fat and Italian. To fat Italians, pizza is no joke. We regularly order out and/or make our own pizza at home. The Husband called on his way home from work, requesting that I make him pizza for dinner. Sure, I told him, no problem, I had all the ingredients. I just needed to allow the dough to rise. But wait, The Husband loves to have sausage on top of his pizza, and I had none. I asked that he would please pick some up on his way home, which he agreed to do. All was well until he came home. I had already started preparing everything, I was just waiting to blanch the sausage. AND he lost his mind.
Husband: "You can not cook the sausage first! It has to cook on the pizza or it will dry out."
Jaybird: "Husband, I will not place raw sausage on top of this pizza. Raw pork will kill you. Let me blanch it, at the very least."
Husband: (his voice was escalating and he was now using what I like to refer to as his condescending COP tone) "No self-respecting pizza place uses cooked sausage on top of their pizza, it would come out tasteless and all dried up!"
Jaybird: (my voice and tone, only in response to his of course was now getting elevated at this point) "Get outta my kitchen and mind your business. I know what I'm doing!"
Husband: "I'm calling Nunzio's!!!!"
(The Husband whips out his cell phone and hits speed dial- he connects with one of our favorite places to order pizza. On the Jersey Shore, you never know when or where you'll be in the mood for pizza. We have a favorite place in just about every county and town in South and North Jersey, just in case.)
Husband: "HA! Ha, ha, ha. I WAS RIGHT!! I toooold you SO! Nunzio says that they NEVER cook the sausage first, it will dry up!! And we've been eating that pizza for years and we never died!"
Jaybird: (Not willing to give in or concede at this point, because now I'm fuming mad at his tone and his condescending I told you so attitude) "Pizza places have ovens that heat up to 500 zillion degrees, maybe that's okay for them, but at home, no way. I'm still cooking the sausage!!"
Husband: (Get's the cell phone back out, and dials pizza place #2 and asks the same question, just to gloat and be a total tool but instead, I have the satisfaction of hearing this) "Whaaat? You cook your sausage first? WHY? Doesn't it get all dried out? Oh. Because it's raw pork, you blanch it before it goes in the oven? Okay."
Jaybird: "HA!! Ha, ha ha."
Husband: "I don't care what they say! You are not going to cook that sausage first." (Husband goes to make a grab for the package of sausage)
And, because clearly at this point you can already tell we are the King and Queen of maturity and wisdom, things unravel further. Jaybird, normally a pacifist and a calm, centered woman of faith, picked up that package of sausage and threw it at him, adding in a couple of brilliant Italian hand gestures and phrases that I care not to repeat at this time, since I am no longer in a fit of rage and anger. (Don't judge. Some people do Meth. And for the record, no one in my forty-three years of life has EVER incited me to violence. Except The Husband. For some reason, he can make me go from zero to sixty in two seconds.)
BTW: You would think that my children would be cowed or at least shrinking and crying from the escalating violence in the kitchen, instead, they were laughing so hard one of them almost wet their pants. Then, they did what every other person we told about this ridiculous fight did: they picked sides!!!
Honestly, this stupid, stupid sausage fight raged on and on because- everywhere, absolutely everywhere we went, for at least a month, the kids told on us!! They told all of our friends, neighbors and any family members who would listen. So the stinking sausage debate raged ON. My parents got into it over it. My dad thought it would be fine to throw the sausage on the pizza raw, my mom, went with cooking it first. They went out to dinner with their best friends and they weighed in as well. (a split decision) I went to a party at my brother-in-law's house and the first thing he did was walk up to me and say, "Jen, surely you won't die from raw sausage!" Et tu brute, et tu?
Annnnd, again, because we are so mature and everything, we kept tabs. How does something so ridiculous get so out of hand? Welcome to my world. Where my husband and I's biggest fight in almost twenty years of marriage, was about sausage. So I have to ask, who's side would you be on in the Great Sausage Controversy?
*There is no wrong answer here. Just go with your gut instinct. And please, please, don't cite any Google engine search results. Trust me, they have already been thoroughly exhausted by my friends and family and reported to us, ad nauseam.