Since I publicly announced that I no longer eat sausages, I have kept my word. I don’t eat anymore. Just bacon, but I don’t know if it’s classified as charcuterie. I still buy, but I also made it at home, in brine with garlic. And I gave up dairy again, on the recommendation of the doctor. All good and beautiful. But I’m craving pizza. And without sausages, mozzarella and mushrooms, which make me sick, what pizza is that? Today, meditating on the bench in the park, after quieting my mind, I remembered that I once read an article, I don’t know where and by whom it was written, in which it was said that what we call “pizza” actually it’s an abomination. We pile up a bunch of random ingredients, melt some cheese above it and put some ketchup on top and that’s it, we’re eating pizza. Real Italian pizza is completely different, you don’t need many ingredients, the base is dough, tomato sauce, prosciutto crudo and mozzarella. Tomato sauce, not ketchup. Oh, really? Mozzarella is out of the question, let’s see the rest. I made the dough, with warm water, a spoonful of psyllium bran, a spoonful of dry yeast and millet flour, a swirly dough, which I immediately spread on the baking paper. I didn’t need it to grow, I needed it to be elastic. On top I put a layer of tomato sauce, not juice or broth, tomato sauce with pulp. Then I put strips of prosciutto, side by side, then another layer of tomato sauce. I couldn’t resist and put a few pieces of olives and cherry tomatoes. I seasoned with a spice that contains sun-dried tomatoes, garlic and basil. I put it in the oven on high heat for about 30 minutes. Wow, that was beastly! I’m never eating that thing I used to call pizza in my life. Tasty, a little sour from the tomato sauce, sensational prosciutto, a little salty, after that I realized why my subconscious made me forget to put salt in the dough. It would have worked without the olives, I think. Simple, but…wow.