Fallimento: La (non) Cucina di una Pizza

Failure: The (not) Cooking of a Pizza

Ryan and I are both smart people. Well, at least, we can both read, and we can do math. So we figured we should be able to handle cooking a frozen pizza. Apparently not.

I’d blame it on the Italian, but the Italian was pretty simple. And the numbers were written in numbers, not letters, so we only had to figure out “minuti”. (And it was pretty clear that it was more likely that 200 was the temperature, and 20 was the time.)

Anyway … so we set the oven to 200 degrees, waited for it to preheat, set the timer for 20 minutes and popped in the pizza. 20 minutes later the dough looked pretty white still, and the cheese wasn’t melted, so we added another 5 minutes. Then another 20. Then another 20. If you’ve done the math, we have now been cooking the pizza for an hour. It was still looking a little undercooked, but we had places to be, so we took out the pizza. Turns out the pizza was not, in fact, a little undercooked … it was VERY undercooked. Doughy. A little slimy. Basically inedible. I ended up nibbling the outermost edges of the crust, and scraping off the cheese and sauce to eat.

While we were playing with our mushy pizza, Ryan and I were trying to retrace our steps and figure out where we had gone astray.

“Are you sure you turned the oven on?”

“Were we supposed to defrost the pizza first?”

“Did you turn the oven off when you took the pizza out the first time?”

“Do you think the timer turned off the oven?”

Two days later, when we got up the courage to try cooking something else in the oven … we finally had an epiphany. The directions for the pizza were in Italian, the buttons on the oven are in English. Which leads to … The temperature in the instructions was in Celsius, and the temperature on the stove was in Farenheight. Ohhhh. Yeah. That explains things.  200 degrees Celsius is almost 400 degrees Farenheight.

At least we figured it out eventually. Don’t worry Mom & Dad, that college education totally paid off!



Filed under Mishaps

8 responses to “Fallimento: La (non) Cucina di una Pizza

  1. Pat

    Sure glad you figured it out. I thought you were going to say the oven was gas and you were suppose to light the pilot under it….but I think you would have smelled the gas after awhile. Made me smile thinking of Rick when we were newlyweds in college lighting our apartment size oven and it blowing up in his face. He had no eyebrows or eyelashes and his hair was blown straight up and out with the ends melted together. I still giggle when I think of it….needless to say I have always had electric stoves because he has this “thing” about those gas ones!

  2. Haha… I was amazed at the power of your oven if it would cook a frozen pizza at 200 degrees! ;-p

  3. dave, dad

    That sort of cooking-temperature thingy is clearly a sign of GREAT intelligence, as evidenced by its victims:

    I have noted, ( empirically — of course), that making toast requires that I push BOTH the “Toast” & the “Start” button on the toaster oven. Apparently “toasting” does not occur at room temperature in any language, over any time frame.

    Big secret: I am not the only one in the house with this occasional issue with the magic toasting box.


    • kateandryan

      haha. Awesome! Crazy toaster. I can figure out the toaster here, but the microwave is surprisingly complicated …

      ps. I love that you guys are all brave enough to make fun of yourselves too :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s