Cheryl's away for the weekend, herding teenagers from place to place for some school thing, while I'm at home doing my best to entertain Berkeley and Willow. The house can get pretty quiet and boring without Cheryl, but I do my best.
So last night I thought I'd fix something unusual for dinner. Of course, the dogs never get anything unusual--they eat Royal Canin day and night, 7 days a week, with only an occasional treat to break up to monotony. It's not right. When I was a kid, we always fed the dogs left-overs: fried chicken, catfish, pinto beans, corn bread, green beans, potatoes, tomatoes, etc., etc., and they seemed pretty healthy and happy.
So in an attempt to be a spontaneous and fun person, I set my mind loose to come up with the perfect food, considering also that Cheryl wouldn't be here to turn up her nose and roll her eyes at me. Even if the dogs couldn't join me, at least I could have something new and unusual. Then it hit me: okra and spinach pizza.
I made up some pizza dough and went to work: tomato sauce, garlic, cheese, spinach, hot peppers and okra. Transferring the pizza to the oven is tricky; it requires some shaking to free the pizza from the peel, and during this process two pieces of okra flew into the air and landed on the kitchen floor just inches from Berkeley. There was nothing I could do except watch her wolf down those pieces.
I've never seen such a happy dog. She loved those sad little pieces of raw okra.
I cannot recommend okra pizza--it's an acquired taste and I'm definitely not likely to acquire it. Berkeley, however, will probably dream about okra for the rest of her life. Just think what a piece of pizza would do for her...