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.
This is my not-at-all-traditional, white guy version of Navajo fry bread, developed specifically to cradle my Chalupa Cabra—goat stew meets taco night. It’s inspired by the real deal, but makes no claims to authenticity.
