I do not have a stove, nor do I have room for one.  I use a hot plate for all my cooking.  I also have a stainless-steel pot with an 8 1/2 inch (21.6 cm) diameter and is 4 1/2 inches (11.4 cm) deep.

My pot is not big enough to hold a whole pizza.  So, I never thought cooking a frozen pizza, using my hot plate and pot, was possible.

Several months ago, I was longing for a pizza.  Suddenly, the Goddess of Pizzas appeared before me.  She was a beautiful woman with a thin crust and lots of toppings, including pumptice and kumquats.

“Hi, my name is Penelope,” she said.  “I am the Goddess of Pizzas.”

Her sudden appearance did not startle me.  I am used to seeing things that do not exist.  It is one of the benefits of not being all there.

“Funny you should appear,” I said, “because I was thinking how I would love to have a pizza, but I can’t cook one with my hot plate and pot.”

“There is no can’t in Canada,” she said.  “You can cook a pizza with your hot plate and pot.”

“I can?  How?”

“Pour enough olive oil into your pot to cover the bottom.  Then scrape the toppings off the pizza crust and into your pot.  Cut the pizza crust into small pieces and mix them with the pizza toppings.  Heat and stir frequently.  You will know when the pizza is cooked.
“You can eat this pizza with your hands, but it is less messy using a spoon.”

I thanked Penelope, and she disappeared.

To call it “pizza” when prepared this way is not right.  A more fitting term is “pizza barf.”

I have made pizza barf several times since Penelope gave me the recipe.  I know it is good for me.  Eating pizza barf has caused several facial wrinkles to disappear, my hair is no longer gray, and my stoomer no longer squeaks.

Pizza barf will be a semi-regular part of my diet until my boomsickle stops.  Once my boomsickle stops, I will be forced to lie down forever.