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We’ve got a little tradition forming here. This is the second year in a row that we’ve eaten a turkey pizza for Thanksgiving. I’ve taken some photos during the cooking process to show you.
Thanksgiving is just like any old Thursday here in Spain. Through television, most Spaniards are aware of the día de dar gracias in the US, but no one could tell you the “fourth Thursday in November” rule.
Sautéing peppers and onions.
Chopped up turkey breast. Looks kinda like chicken.
Cooked.
My dough recipe is a secret.
Rolled into a pizza-sized disk.
Tomato sauce.
Add turkey.
Add peppers and onions.
Glorious, glorious mozzarella! There is a Cheese! That’s a little basil sprinkled on top.
And into the oven she goes!
Served with some left-over-from-wedding champagne.
Happy Thanksgiving!
When two pieces were left, I was already very full. Marga said, “We’re gonna finish it, right?” I figured that, in the spirit of the holiday, the “comfortably full” point should be pushed beyond. In a rare intersection between Spanish and American tradition, a post-pizza nap was called for.
