Somehow we went an entire week in New York without eating pizza.

We had a margherita pie from Motorino the night we arrived, when we were staying with my brother in the East Village.

And then we took the train to Brooklyn and I started unpacking (kitchen first, obviously) and stocking the pantry and with light streaming through the window at all hours of the day, it quickly became my happy place.

So, I've been cooking.

And using a beach towel as a potholder.

But last night, time slipped away from us--probably with the sweat running down our backs--so, we went in search for our neighborhood pizza place that wins raves.

They deliver (fast and free, just like the box says), but we walked and talked and held hands and giggled at dogs who look embarrassed for having to do their thing with so many onlookers.

The $6 baby pie was deemed "perfect for two persons," so we took the strikingly friendly man's word for it--and even splashed out an extra $2 for a whole wheat crust.

Back home, as I piled lemon-dressed arugula on top of mine, I heard squeals of delight to the tune of:

Mommy, you have GOT to taste this pizza! It is sooooo good. Hurry!

The Aristocats and a small scoop of Ben & Jerry's Cake Batter ice cream and our new pizza/movie night was born.