I made my first pizza when I was 11 years old or maybe sooner.  It was from the Ladybird children’s recipe book series.  It took me hours to make the dough alone.  I would cautiously warm the water, add the sugar and slowly pour in the yeast granules, watching the little globules scatter delicately into the water below.  I then stirred it and glowed at the transformation taking place before my eyes.  My favorite spot was leaving it in the sun near the swimming pool and watching it slowly bubble away. Mixing the dough was a feat I cherished. I spent more time than needed, kneading it. I loved the warm, squishy dough squeezing between my fingers. Continue reading →