Cowboy's Food Law

I love to cook. Maybe I haven’t mentioned it before..oh wait! You read my "About Me," right? If not, I’ll wait a minute while you read it……….Ok. I love to cook. Food is fun. Cooking is another one of my creative outlets; one that I’ve sadly neglected lately. Boooo Hisssss. I’m worn out by suppertime and often fix the easiest meal. I know. It’s tragic. Pop Tarts (or Toaster Treats--depending on the budget) can make a dang tasty meal. Warning: don’t read the nutrition facts on the box, though. The calorie data is offensive.

I used to come up with some great menus. I get it honest—I come from a long line of great cooks. Not like Julia Child status or anyone famous…but fabulous country cooking. Even though I whip up some knock-your-socks-off meals most of the time, The Cowboy has found it necessary to enact a law: only one experiment per meal (so most of the meal is deemed edible—I know, further evidence of government over-reach). I’m somewhat put off by the law but obey (usually). This past Father’s Day I showed a flagrant disregard for the (stupid –did I say that?) law—the whole meal was an experiment!! Barbeque Chicken Pizza. Hey, get your finger out of your throat!! It was good.

Most days The Cowboy asks “what’s for supper?” and I tell him and then wait for his response. If I get a tight-lipped nod, I’m good to go. If I get a curled lip and a wrinkled nose, I go with plan B. Well, on Father’s Day, he didn’t get a choice. Look, if I’d told him, I would have gotten the lip-nose response and I really wanted to make the pizza…So.
I cooked a couple of chicken breast halves. While they cooled, I made the dough for the crust. Princess sautéed up some onions, green peppers and mushrooms in olive oil. I shredded the chicken, seasoned it then poured a little bbq sauce (I like Sweet Baby Ray’s) over to lightly coat the chix. I pressed out the dough, spread some bbq sauce over the crust, topped it with the chix and the veggies. I topped the whole thing with slices of provolone cheese. Popped the pie into a 400 degree oven for about 15 minutes, and when the door was opened, angels were singing the halleluiah chorus. Guess what happened next.

“What kind of pizza is this?” (What is he? 5?)

“Barbeque chicken. Try it. It’s real good.” (I said non-chalantly)

Silence………………then…

“Mmm. This IS good.” (Was there any doubt?)

Ha! The Queen is back!! Now to get rid of that law. Any ideas?