So it's Super Bowl Sunday, and that means that places like Domino's, Pizza Hut, Papa John's and every local pizza place will be jam packed with orders, deliveries and irate customers wanting their eats before kickoff at around 6:18 ET.  Myself, I make my own pizza, as described in this post, to avoid the pricey costs of pizza and wings, and to know that it will be made exactly the way I want it, from the dough to the sauce, right down to the toppings.

Of course, with cooking at home, there are always pitfalls, pratfalls and unexpected difficulties that are prone to appearing when we least want them to.  For example, here in Missouri, pepperoni is not nearly what I am used to.  Back in Buffalo, pepperoni is actual quality sausage, that curls as the pizza cooks, releasing a little bit of grease and a flavor that can't be described any other way than as a necessity to good pizza. 

Chain places don't deal with this, going with a pizza sausage that they pass as pepperoni.  It is basically heat resistant, as it looks the same when the cooking process as it did when it went in.  The flavor is extremely weak, and there is no grease emitted from it.  It's almost like packing foam:  it's there, but you really don't want to eat it. 

Knowing that I wanted to make pizza for the Super Bowl, but not wanting to suffer through another disappointment in the toppings foray, I made a bold decision.  If I couldn't get the pepperoni I wanted here, I would obviously have to undertake a different route.  I called my dad, who still lives in West Seneca, about fifteen minutes outside of the city, and explained to him my dilemma. 

After overcoming his shock and obvious disdain for the so called "pizza sausage" that is available here, he agreed to go out and grab some real Margherita stick pepperoni and send it out.  That was last week.  I spoke with him Wednesday, and he had sent it out Tuesday morning.  Needless to say, that was a relief and a positive, since I was low on options otherwise, not to mention funds to rectify the situation if necessary. 

Friday morning, after grabbing breakfast, taking Tina to work, and grabbing a few things at Wal-mart that we needed to get through for the week, I returned home to find a box sitting at my front door.  It was a priority mail delivery from my father.  I went inside, opened it up, and was pleased to find eight sticks of the Margherita pepperoni we in New York are so found of.  For those of you who haven't had the real deal, I urge you to go and find it, put it on a pizza and try it yourself. 

So, even though I know he is en route to Florida for a month, I want to take a second to say thanks, Dad, for following through on that and getting me something I needed when I needed it.  You probably don't know how important it actually was.