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!