I’ve gotten into the terrible habit of buying and not using pizza dough. Every time, I tell myself it’ll be different but end up tossing away a once perfectly good round of dough a few weeks later. Instead of making my own, I head over to South Brooklyn Pizza where they know more about what you want than you do, Grimaldi’s when family is in town and there’s time for the line, Layla Jones for a fast slice, or Sam’s Restaurant for the mildly terrifying son of Sam jokes the waiter drops with your pizza. With so many great options just a few minutes in any direction, the fun of spinning and topping my own gets left for another day. The pizza stone that lives in my oven is looking angrier and spottier than usual.
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