serious pie.

This pizza post was supposed to come at you on monday, but I was thwarted by the battle of the blog hosts. My husband Dave has been working diligently to get RDG switched over to a new (cheaper) host with more storage, and there have been more than a few bumps along the way. It’s finally done—with my blog and all it’s contents perfectly intact. Bless his little coding heart. And his cute butt.

Also, while we’re discussing housekeeping matters of sorts, I wanted to say a quick word about these restaurant posts. While I was photographing these delicious pizzas (which I hate myself a little bit for doing, by the way—I find flashes in dimly lit restaurants completely annoying), a rather loud man at the table next door piped up and said, “Ah! A food critic! She must write for the paper!” I assured him that no, I am not a critic. I’m not paid for it—I just do it for fun. Luckily loud man and his wife pounded three glasses of wine each, inhaled their pizza, got into two verbal spats and left before the third could begin.

I bring this up because I want to make it clear: I am not a critic. I have not the foggiest idea what I’m talking about when I discuss food. I can only tell you what I like, and therefore I’d like these to be considered restaurant recommendations and not critiques. I’m certainly not going to spend my time and energy telling you all about a restaurant I didn’t like—that’s Ruth Reichel’s territory and she’s damn good at it. I am a tiny, insignificant Seattlite who manages to make it out for a meal once in a while. And I really enjoy telling you all about it.

So now onto the important part of this post: pizza. Serious, and seriously delicious, pizza. Serious Pie is a Tom Douglas joint, and it stands next door to two of his other eateries Dahlia Lounge and Lola. I respect him enormously as a chef and as a restauranteur. He and his wife Jackie do wonderful things for this city, culinary and otherwise.

Serious Pie doesn’t take reservations, and there is often a wait for a table. They’ll call you on your cell when your table is ready, so Dave and I passed the time across the street browsing Bed, Bath and Beyond. It was my version of waiting heaven; not so for my anti-shopping husband.

When we finally did score our table we were starved and needed something to nosh on right away. For a starter, I ordered the roasted cherries with a milky medallion of burrata in the center. The cherries were sweet, tender, and perfectly paired with the creamy burrata. Pine nuts added a nice crunch, and even the tiny bit of mint garnish blended perfectly with the flavors.

Dave had a salad of wild lamb’s quarter, which are slightly bitter greens with a toothy crunch. Local strawberries, pine nuts and tuada cheese made for a salad of amazing summer flavors.

And onto the star of the show: this incredible pizza. Roasted crimini mushrooms and truffle cheese atop what I can only describe as the world’s perfect pizza crust.

Not only is it perfectly cooked (quickly in a hot, hot alder wood fire oven), but the crust actually has flavor. It’s salty, savory, crispy on the edges and chewy in the center. And those puffy bubbles? Irresistible.

Dave happily noshed on a pizza of wild boar sausage and Walla Walla onions.

The crust, again, was perfect; the sausage tender and moist. The sweet onions balanced out the richness of the cheese and meat, and it all blended together perfectly in our happy, deliciously satisfied tummies. We were delighted to take home leftovers and (just in case we needed dessert later) a slice of coconut cream pie from Dahlia.

If anyone knows how to make this crust at home, I’d give you my right foot for the recipe. Okay, maybe just a toe. But until then, you can find loitering outside Serious Pie, waiting for a table.

-RDG

watches, pictures and pay phones: my month without an iphone

The month of July has come to an end. It’s been hot, busy, exciting, and will result in one heck of a water bill. But most of all, it’s been absent my tiny digital friend the iPhone.

A recap if you’re just tuning in: I gave up my iPhone this month. No texting, no Facebook, no tweeting, no email, no calendar, no Google Maps. If I needed to use any of these things, I would access them on my laptop. I pretended that my cell was a home phone (we don’t have a landline), and left it at home when I went out.

What did I learn? Some valuable lessons. Firstly, that living without a cell phone makes me a bit like a cavewoman. I felt naked and slightly panicked for the first few days. What if someone needed me? What if there was an emergency? What would I do? But day by day the panic subsided and I was left feeling, for the lack of a non-cheesey word, free. While I was out and about going through my day, I didn’t have to worry about that email or kick myself for not returning that phone call. I didn’t worry about it because there was nothing I could do—it simply had to wait. I never resorted to using a pay phone, but I thought about it quite seriously once. Turns out I don’t carry much change.

When I was home, the temptation to keep my phone in my pocket remained. Before this hot little month began I would pull it out whenever I had a free minute to check Facebook, email, tweet a quick quip. So what did I do with all those new free minutes? I gave my daughter my undivided attention. I read books and magazines. I gardened. I cleaned the car. Nothing truly exciting, but it felt wonderful. At the end of the day I felt as though I had accomplished a lot and still had some time to relax. I no longer distracted myself through the day; the day distracted me.

In the beginning I told you that I would decide at the end of the month whether I would keep my iPhone or not. I have since found out I am under contract with AT&T, so it’s a financial no-brainer to stick with my current phone for now. But in my head I still debate about it. There are some features of the iPhone (in some cases, of any cell phone) that I can’t live without and some that I should live without. And here’s how the cards fall:

Texting. The one thing I really, truly missed. I won’t part with this one. I’m a lazy, anti-social creature by nature. Sometimes I don’t feel like talking on the phone, and sometimes I especially don’t feel like talking to the person I need to talk to. So I text. It’s one convenience of living in 2010 that I fiercely embrace.

Facebook. I’m being wishy-washy about keeping this app installed on my phone. First of all, I sort of hate the mobile version. Second of all, it only encourages me to check it more than I need to or should. I think getting rid of the app will help prevent me from falling back into the pit of iPhone distraction.

Twitter. Twitter and the iPhone go hand in hand. When I feel the urge to tweet something, by the time I find my laptop and log on, the urge has passed. Tweeting is quick, short, and I sort of hate the full version. And I’m certainly not as addicted to Twitter as I am to other iPhone apps, so I’m keeping my TwitBird.

iCal. My husband and I have a shared calendar in which we keep track of all of our appointments and events. Being without it has been sort of a nightmare. As much as I wanted keeping a paper calendar on the fridge to work, it simply didn’t. I forgot about important dates, failed to write future appointments down, and likely annoyed my friends and family by forgetting about things. I am scatterbrained as all heck, and I need my iCal.

Google Maps/GPS. I have the worst sense of direction known to man. If I can plug in my destination, check the traffic along the route, and get turn-by-turn directions that will tell me if I have gone astray, I will save myself a lot of headaches and wasted gas. And no, I will never, ever succumb to one of those wackadoodle GPS devices that speaks to you in a British accent. They freak me out.

Camera. So many pictures of my daughter doing ridiculous things were never taken. I don’t carry my SLR everywhere with me, and at so many points I wished that I could have taken a quick picture or video. Sadness.

Clock. Okay, laugh at me on this one. But I don’t wear a watch because I’ve never needed to. I became one of those strangers that asks you for the time and when they walk away you think, how on earth do they not know what hour of the day it is? It’s probably because they don’t have a cell phone and haven’t worn a watch since 1989.

Email. Am I the only one who takes days to return an email? This month, it felt like I was. Because I only checked my email when I got around to opening my laptop (which isn’t often when you’re chasing after a speedy toddler all day), emails stacked up and went unanswered. This one I’ll keep, just in case. But I now prefer to type out my emails on a keyboard that isn’t the size of a matchbook.

So there you have it, folks: the manifesto of a reformed iPhone junkie. If you find yourself in a similar spot, I’d recommend just giving it a go. Put your phone down for a day. Or a week. Or a month. Because when you’re staring at a tiny glowing screen, you’re missing it. And you’ll never know what you’re missing until you look up.

-RDG