At times, my husband Richard can be a little over the top. When the new
Italian restaurant in our neighborhood failed to deliver on it's promise
of serving authentic wood-fired Neapolitan pizza, he decided to take
matters into his own hands. "Let's build our own pizza oven" he said.
Having been married to him for many years, I knew he wasn't kidding. But
I was skeptical. How often would we really use an oven that sits
outdoors, when we live in Ohio? I'm talking a lot of snow! But he
assured me we would use it often enough, and described all the wonderful
dishes that we could make in it. Eventually I succumbed, and it wasn't
long after that the UPS man was wheeling a large wooden crate up our
driveway from Forno Bravo.
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