#like a five gallon tin of olive oil

[queen-mabs-revenge]

No. I’m too young to have memories from less than 10 years ago sneak up like that and convince me they’re not real.

[eastergrass]

Alligator Pears

We were supposed to meet here. I have walked across the lake to this island where Andre’s cabin puffs chimney smoke into the gray sky, I have walked this water before. The lake had groaned below me as I made tracks in the snow. The hatchback was down a fire lane that had last been used maybe a month ago. The water was beginning to run through culverts, but there was still a lot of snow in the woods. There were no wildflowers. Nothing green, other than the firs.

The winter sky had begun to distinguish itself from the rest of the landscape: the still, pale trees. The flat canvas of ice. Now, there is only a small window of time when one should walk on a lake. A few decades ago, I could have driven out here. In April.

When I arrive, his cabin is empty, but a fire burns white in his old iron stove. I set my bag on his low, springy cot and sit at the small bachelor’s dining table. A bit of white powder incriminates a clipboard that pins down a sheet of notebook paper, blank except for some dark stains. I forgot my cell phone, of course. I remove my boot, my sweaty wool socks. It’s almost too warm. I imagine now he may have dropped through the ice, his own cell buzzing away in the frozen depths, waking the fish.

We were supposed to meet here. Andre is my go-to guy for a lot of things. He has blue tattoos on his knuckles and he’s tall and skinny and dresses like he lives in a sewer. We met many years ago, before the border closed. He has always been an entrepreneur of markets untapped. I originally met him when he was a photographer on a dried-out farm on the West coast. Things have gone downhill for him, but they didn’t have too many other places to go. On the wall is a poster: a bright illustration of a young mother with a black bandanna below her eyes and her baby’s mouth at her breast. Painted on the wall’s raw wood is a lime that is more egg-shaped than anything, covered with splotchy black dots and painted the wrong green.

A stack of black spray painted five-gallon-buckets leans against the wall.

There is a tin can on the table with four cigarette butts and a roach. An olive-colored Coleman drains onto the floor. This is where we were supposed to meet. He has the produce. It is getting cold, I feel it all over and all the way through.

It is Michelle who really needs the avocados. “I want some,” she said to me the other day, lying in our bleached sheets. “I haven’t seen an avocado in years. I could get a hooker, a gun, I could still get a gram of coke. but you just can’t get avocados anymore. At least not in the U.S. Nothing grows, and nothing is delivered” She was right, and I just need to please her. If she wants avocados, she needs them. I want her to get big and fat off essential oils. The other night I set my lips on her belly-button, that soft hub of life, and told her I’d call my old friend Andre. He can get these things, he’s in New England.

It had all been arranged. I lift the cover on the pregnant potbelly stove and look at the black logs and feel the blast of heat. I don’t know where Rico gets the things he gets. There are a lot of things people want that have grown harder to find in the past few decades: real cheese, nice clothes, coffee, citrus, real drugs and good songs. I’ve never been much of a reader, but I’ve heard complaints there as well. Michelle bought a gram of matcha, six ounces of pine nuts, and real champagne.

I have to do these things for her, now more than ever. When we first met it was her face. I am ashamed to admit it, but at the time I was interested in little else.

Her black and symmetrical (almost mannish) brows, and her washed-out blonde hair. After we moved in together I realized she did nothing to maintain her eyebrows, and it was all the work of a higher power.

I grope the avocados. Four are very green, one is small and almost black. Andre has left them in astraw basket on the counter. I put my boots back on and go outside. There is a green tarp pulled back to expose a woodpile, and a red tank of gasoline. I see footprints going around the house, but they are filled uo partway with old snow. The sun has set. I think about the ice.

“Andre?” The obvious echo. Andre, we were supposed to meet here.

I can hardly see the lake for the darkness. There are these footprints but I have no cellphone, so I begin to follow them, setting my feet directly within his tracks. We always met in odd places: down alleys, in stranger’s basements, in pool halls, parking lots, and trailheads.

“Andre, Andre,” I mutter. I feel the snot freezing in my nose. The pines moan all around me, occasionally shaking off a mantle of snow. Above all else I hope Michelle doesn’t worry and I hope for Andre’s safety.

I recall that my mother always bought avocados, years ago, usually five a week. She told me about how they were called alligator pears, because of their shape and reptilian hide. You used to be able to get them a dollar a piece, or two if they were organic. I brought sixty dollars for Rico. The market we went to when I was a kid had photographs of farmers from across the globe above the bright produce, where a sprinkler system drizzled on the fifteen-minute mark. A blast of coffee-smell greeted you around certain corners. No flowers were ever out of season, and pretty women with dry hair and soft skin tallied our careful purchases. My mom always had the burlap bags and a heavy black credit card.

I see the lake now: its teeming blankness. I stop in Rico’s cold path. It goes a bit further ahead of me over the shore and the footprints set a straight line in the drifted snow, one that heads onto the lake. I can only imagine Rico below the ice, the ink frost-bitten off his brown skin. 

Now, he is probably bobbing in that giant frigid womb of lake water, his body awaiting the spoiled birth of spring.

“One week out of the year,” he had warned me over the phone. “Nowadays, there’s only one week you can make it to the island and back. If it cracks anywhere at all we’re both fucked.”

[babyminors]

Veggie Packed Pizza Rolls Recipe

Kid-favorite pizza rolls are fun to eat and easy to make! Our recipe absolutely packs the sauce with pureed veggies to make this cheesy, lunchbox-ready recipe super nutritious, too.

Savory, cheesy warm pizza rolls. What kid can resist them? If only most kids felt as excited about spinach as they do about pizza.

But today, your kid just may get excited about BOTH. Because these soft, cute, and tasty pizza rolls are chock full of nine different veggies (including spinach) for a super-nutritious, flavorful, and irresistible pizza roll.

For those of you with picky eaters or kids who have a hard time with the various textures and flavors of veggies, you’ve got to try this one. These pizza rolls provide a lot of veggie flavor without being overwhelming.

Another reason we love these rolls: they make a fun, think-outside-the-sandwich packed lunch option. Make them ahead and serve all week for snacks and lunches. Super yum!

A Healthier Pizza Roll Recipe

Pizza rolls can be as simple as marinara sauce and cheese inside storebought pizza dough. But we think it’s worth it to spend a little extra time on prep to really punch up the nutrition in these cheesy little buns.

To start, we make our own pizza dough using half whole wheat flour. Then we packed in two cups of cooked veggies for lots of vitamins, minerals, and fiber.

You can really use any veggies you like, or have on hand. There are the ones we used:

Picky Eater Approved

Picky eaters often react to the texture of veggies just as much (or more!) than the taste. Pureeing the veggies into the sauce creates a smooth texture that may appeal to your little ones. And all the nutrition is still there.

Just because kids might not detect the veggies in these pizza rolls doesn’t mean that we should deceive our kids about what we put into the sauce. Let your kids know there are tons of yummy veggies in these rolls, and that’s part of what makes them taste so good.

How to Make Pizza Rolls

Start by making the dough. This is a fairly basic pizza dough, but we’ve added some whole wheat flour for added nutrition. You can even use all whole wheat flour if you like. White whole wheat flour has a soft texture and creates a nice light, fluffy whole grain pizza crust.

While the dough is rising (it takes about 30 minutes,) prep your veggies. You’ll need around 1.5-2 cups of veggies from this list:

spinach

bell pepper

zucchini

mushrooms

onions

carrots

kale

cherry tomatoes

Saute the veggies in a little olive oil until tender, then dump them into a blender with a cup of marinara sauce. Jarred sauce is totally OK for this recipe! Use the one you know your family likes.

Blend the sauce and veggies together, then roll out your dough on a floured surface, like a clean table.

Spread the sauce on the dough, and sprinkle on the cheese. Kinda looks like a traditional pizza now, doesn’t it? But not for long.

Roll it up, slice it into twelve rolls, and position the rolls inside a greased muffin tin. Some recipes call for these to cook on a baking sheet, but we like the muffin tin, because it keeps the cheese from oozing out the bottom of the rolls.

After baking, let the rolls cool in the pan for five minutes, then they’re ready to pop out and eat.

Can You Freeze these Pizza Rolls?

Yes! Just cook, cool, refrigerate for a couple of hours (to let them firm up completely) then transfer the rolls to a gallon-sized zip-top freezer bag for storage. They’ll stay fresh in the freezer for a couple of months, and you can reheat them in the microwave or toaster oven.

More Recipes Featuring Pureed Veggies

If your kids like veggies blended into food, they might also like these:

Sauce

1/4 cup spinach

1/2 medium bell pepper, green

1/4 cup, pieces or slices mushrooms, white

1/2 medium onion

1 medium tomato, red

1 medium carrot

1 medium zucchini

1 cup spaghetti or marinara sauce

Crust

1 cup flour, whole wheat

1 cup flour, all-purpose

2 1/4 teaspoon yeast, active dry

1 1/2 teaspoon sugar

3/4 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup water

3 tablespoon olive oil

1 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese

Chop veggies (you will need two cups total of your choice of the vegetables listed) and saute for 3-4 minutes or until slightly tender. Blend in a high powered blender with marinara sauce.

Combine 1 cup flour, undissolved yeast, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Whisk together the warm water and the oil and add to the dry ingredients. Mix until well blended, about 1 minute. Gradually add enough remaining flour to make a soft dough. Dough should form a ball and will be slightly sticky. Knead on a floured surface, adding additional flour if necessary, until smooth and elastic, about 4 minutes.

Place dough in a large, lightly greased bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Allow to rest for 30 minutes in a warm, draft-free place. Dough should almost double in size.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Remove the dough from the bowl and place on a lightly floured work surface. Use a rolling pin to roll the dough into a 1/2-inch thick rectangle, about 12 by 10 inches.

Begin by spreading about 1 cup of sauce over the dough, leaving a 1/2-inch boarder around the edges. If it seems like it needs more, then add 1 or 2 Tbsp at a time. Sprinkle with mozzarella cheese.

Begin rolling the dough until you have one large roll. Slice into 8-12 slices and place in a greased muffin tin.

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until rolls are golden brown and cooked through the middle.

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