Last night the gals were out taking in some culture. The boys stayed home. After making dinner for them, I decided to check out a mobile pizza oven down at our local eatery. I mean, how often do you get a chance to eat pizza made in an oven that's pulled behind a car?
The pizza oven was parked next to the cafe. They set up a tent where the pizzas were prepared. Good thing because as I waited for my order, it began to rain. At times, it was raining hard. I could have waited for my dinner inside, but it was a beautiful night out, and besides, it was fun chatting with the owners.
I watched as they quickly put together all the orders that came before mine. As they worked, we chatted. I found out the main pizza-maker is from Rome, Italy. His eyes grew when I told him we named one of our boys after his hometown.
"He Italian?" he asked excitedly?
"Nope--pretty much northern European." I explained why we chose that name and how I absolutely loved his city. It took about twenty minutes until my order was ready. I kept thinking how fun it was to spend time with these strangers, getting to know them, if only a little. It made me think about how the act of eating shouldn't only be just about the food. It should be about those who make the meal and not just about those eating it.
The couple said something interesting as they worked and I waited. They said that they had taken their oven into Salt Lake City many times, but they enjoyed the smaller towns, talking to the people, and slowing down just a bit. It seems I wasn't the only one who enjoyed the experience.
Oh, and the pizza was delicious as well.
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