The original plan, because you knew shit would happen – it’s one of those Universal constants – was to get up, start the dough and then cook the creole sauce while the yeast were eating and making merry prior to their deaths. However, an unexpected entropy field passed through my produce drawer and sucked the life out of my green bell peppers.
This pizza isn’t traditional anything. I mean, sure. There’s crust, sauce, cheese and other decorations, so from that standpoint it is, but it stops there. It’s built on a creole sauce made with smoked hog jowl fat—because face bacon makes everything better.
This is pizza crust for when it’s just you, your questionable choices, and a fridge raid. No sharing, no judgment. One ball of dough, enough for a personal pizza that doesn’t taste like frozen cardboard, grease, or broken dreams. It’s chewy, crisp, and ready in as little as an hour and a half.
Sometimes you just need enough sauce to get the job done—no gallon jugs, no freezer overflow, just a solid half-liter of flavor. This Creole sauce is all about attitude: smoky, spicy, a little messy, and unapologetically bold. It’s the kind of thing you spoon over shrimp, grilled meat, or whatever’s hanging around that needs rescuing. Built from scratch, no shortcuts, and definitely no pre-made spice packets. Just you, your pan, and a little patience. Make it, use it, move on with your life.
Cornbread is fine, but sometimes you want something that doesn’t taste like sand and regret. These sweet corn muffins cut the crap and bring actual flavor—thanks to creamed corn, green chiles, and a decent hit of pepperjack cheese.
