there is a happiness to be found in yellow squash

Today, I made three hyperexotic wholemeal pizzas. I woke up and the sun was up and I was like, Shit, I've got the entire day to myself. What can I ever do to occupy myself all day? I've forgotten how it's like to wake up without needing to meet anyone or do anything for someone other than Me Me Me, so I was of course thrilled and happy. 

As always, my grandparents quickly found things for me to do. I had to buy slippers, a mobile phone, bank in a cheque and get afternoon tea by the time I flipped open The Straits Times. 

To cut to the chase, I wound up in Orchard and took a stroll from Far East Plaza to Plaza Singapura. I went to Carrefour and spent 50 bucks on three bags of exotic produce. No cai xin and kai lan for me! I zoned in on yellow squash, fennel, wild rocket, baby spinach and grape tomatoes (which aren't exactly that exotic either, but at least they don't use hanyu pinyin in their names.) I also procured buffalo mozzarella and parmigiano reggiano, and my hand hovered over some mould-covered goat cheese but I managed to contain similar Urges. 

Anyway, I spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen having some Me Time (in a parodically Sensitive New Age Guy manner, of course) and kneading pizza dough, while mournfully recapitulating all that went wrong in my Literature Paper 5 Drama P5. Lifts and bangs. I had a hard time with the dough, because it turned out shaggy, sticky and very hostile to my kneading. The kitchen became gluten hell. However, I added more wholemeal flour and tamed the dough somewhat. This type of satisfaction is difficult to attain in everyday situations. Lifts and bangs. 

I was not about to add pineapples and ham because I'd rather scrape my teeth on a smoking pizza stone than make a dumb old Hawaiian pizza with homemade dough. For the first pizza, I drizzled olive oil, fresh rosemary and freshly minced garlic all over slivers of yellow squash. I stupidly forgot to take a picture of the pizza after it came out of the oven, but this is pretty enough. (I love yellow squash.)

The next pizza was a slightly more experimental. I caramelized onions and fennel together and spread them over the dough. Next I sautéed asparagus and weaved them into strips of smoked salmon, casually and effortlessly scattering them over the dough much like they do in Iron Chef. Or Top Chef. I don't know my cooking shows very well. Anyhow, I finished it off with wild rocket and chopped walnuts, though I think it could have done with more caramelized onions. 

The last pizza had tomatoes and very pricey buffalo mozzarella, which I adored, so it wasn't so hard on the pocket. It came out of the oven and I remembered to take a picture.

There was also soup. I made a cold soup of yoghurt, dill and cucumber. It was surprisingly well-received; in actuality, I was expecting Asian-style Cultural Alienation And Familial Abjection when I offered everyone chilled soup. Perhaps the humidity of the afternoon had radically changed tastes and preferences. In any case, I hope to introduce gazpacho in days to come.

Phew! Who knew that procrastination could be so exhausting?