Natasha and I explored a new grocery store today, Zelyonii Perekryostok. It's a bit over a mile's walk from the Embassy, slightly downhill when you have no groceries to lug, and uphill when the stroller is a bit heavier. Nice store. Baby was sleeping when we got there, but woke up about 15 minutes in. She has become quite whiny lately when she's not getting my full attention, so I couldn't spend the time really checking out my options.
I wanted to make pizza for dinner tonight. I had in my head a vision of a very Italian style pizza. Thin crust, not too much sauce, light on the toppings, fresh basil, salami instead of pepperoni, etc. Natasha was in full whine mode by the time we got to the cheese section, so I grabbed the first thing I saw with "mozzarella" on the label. The fact that each slice was individually wrapped should have been a warning ...
Because, yes, although it was billed as mozzarella, what I actually bought was basically American cheese. I HATE American cheese. And even if you like it, you could hardly argue that it belongs on pizza. So my beautiful, thin-crust Italian pizza ended up looking like this:
It didn't taste as awful as it looks, but the cheese did leave that awful processed film on the roof of my mouth. Better luck next time, I guess.