The end of another impossibly short weekend with Handsome Chef Boyfriend arrived at the crack of dawn this morning.  Sigh.  HCB has an endearing habit of showing up at my place bearing gifts; Friday night was no exception.  Shortly after he arrived at my workplace to momentarily stick out his tongue at me through the ballet classroom door, he scooted on to my house with his sackful of presents.

Ever get a hankerin’ for a bite of something or other, and you just can’t leave it alone until you satisfy it?  This has been the case for me over the past month or so:  an insatiable appetite for artichoke hearts and sun dried tomatoes–the wicked ones in a teeny jar of olive oil.  Those. On a pizza.

We had something that came close when we ate at a loverly little Italian place about a month ago where HCB’s eldest works as a chef.  But still, not quite.  Then last weekend during a grocery store run I started looking for those beautiful little morsels in a jar and HCB reminded me that I would end up spending way too much, in overt violation of my vow of poverty.  He was right, of course.

So when I got home and started rifling through the sack, here is what I found:

And this:

And while the quality of the photos is crummy, you get the drift.  There was also fresh mozzarella and pizza dough in the fridge.  So when we came home from our movie date last night (Sandra Bullock, George Clooney, Gravity, 90 minutes of white-knuckled hand holding), HCB got to work assembling a pizza.  He moves fast and I never really got a photo of his work in progress without a blurry hand.  Plus, it drives him crazy when I (attempt to) photograph him in the kitchen, or at all, really, so the soundtrack for this process was, Hey–stop taking PICTURES!

I give you, Our Pizza:

The chunky purple things are pickled beets we grabbed at a local farmer’s market a few weeks ago; they ended up adding a bit of sweetness to the savory ingredients–perfection.

I am not ashamed to say we ate every last crumb of our pizza.  (HCB pointed out that there were only six slices, after all.  Works for me.)

HCB also happens to be the King of Puns–an amazing skill which he has honed to a fine sheen and which will serve as the topic of a future post.  (AND, and, and, the man knows how to JUGGLE!  What?!)  But until I give these gifts the full attention they deserve, I leave you with this exchange between us last night while the movie credits rolled:

Me:  I found the ending unsatisfying.

HCB:  Why?  I found it to be down to earth.

Get it?  Down to earth?  And the movie was called Gravity?  Har har, HCB.

Consider yourselves warned, gentle readers.  ‘Til next time.