Mama Mia's pizza and my caprese salad

I’m really enjoying this simplified life. I just took even more stuff to the basement that, since I’m not cooking, I can live without. For what did I think I’d need tupperware buckets during this remodeling project? Did I think I'd need to store leftover Raisin Bran or caprese salads?

Do you know about caprese salad? Usually at this time of the year I am using the basil from my gardens to whip up batches of pesto (which The Man considers funky – or sometimes even “esoteric.”) Creating pesto is a bother when you have no garbage disposal in which to rinse bowls, and you have to wash the cuisinart in the bathroom sink. So instead I’m using my basil supply to make caprese salad for lunch everyday. Just for me, of course. The Man Who Loves Most Italian Food considers fresh mozzarella a bit too funky for his taste.

So, Sandy, who requested that I include a recipe on this blog now and again, here’s my recipe for today: caprese salad. Buy a yummy, locally-grown tomato at the farmers’ market (while they last; we’re getting to the end of the tomato season here in Wisconsin). Cube it. Buy a ball of fresh mozzarella cheese in the local deli. This is white, soft stuff, not the hard mozzarella that is melted on pizza. Cut up the cheese in an amount about equal to the amount of tomato pieces. Go out in the garden a pick some basil leaves. You’ll want maybe a couple of tablespoons of chopped leaves. Cut them up, stir the three ingredients together and drizzle with good, extra-virgin olive oil (I like Berio or Bertoli). Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste. Devour! Ooh, happy, happy...

I’ve found that too many of the Bluemound Road establishments do not have stellar wine lists, and, as I promised to review wines with my meals on this blog, I’ve decided that sometimes, depending on which restaurant we're hitting, I will sip a glass at home before we go out. Saturday night's sample from our basement wine rack was a simple Ravenswood zinfandel. As befits its price, while drinkable, it does not have a complex of interesting flavors nor a long finish. I think it is about $9.99 a bottle.

So it was a tad late for dinner, even for your hip-and-trendy restaurant reviewer and The Man Who Never Goes To Bed Before Midnight, when we hit Mama Mia’s for pizza on that night. Late, as in 10 PM. I was correct in assuming that Mama Mia’s wine list might be less than extensive: 3 red wines vs 17 beers. I’m sure my glass at home was at least as good as any that Mama Mia’s was offering for $4.95 a glass.

Mama Mia’s menu includes a kids' and seniors' menu with items like spaghetti or ravioli for $5.25. I’ve never seen a combination children’s and seniors’ menu. That would be handy for smaller appetites. My Italian Food Afficionado and I seldom fit that description, so we ordered a large cheese and sausage pizza ($12.95) and ate about 2/3 of it. Personally, I think it is the best pizza in town, with lots of cheese, well-seasoned tomato sauce and ample, nicely spiced sausage on a crispy, thin crust. Salad and garlic bread for two is well worth the additional $4.75. I’ve loved Mama Mia’s garlic bread, dripping with salty oil and melted butter, since high school, when my gang of girlfriends used to go to their restaurant on 88th and Burleigh. And before that I think I remember the original Mama Mia’s was on North Avenue, maybe about 48th St. How about that, Mardie or Pat or Judi? Can any of you girlfriends recall that place – or am I making that up?

The ambience at Mama Mia’s is nice wood-and-dark-carpeting comfortable, with those fun wine-waiter pictures on the walls. The background music is pleasant Italian tenor stuff, like “That’s Amore” and “Santa Maria.” Mama Mia’s attracts a middle-aged “crowd”, if you could call it that. Six tables were still occupied when we left at 10:45. The ladies’ bathroom is pleasant and clean, except... the overflowing waste basket, of course. As closing time approached, our waitress was washing tables and benches and chairs and even the salt and pepper shakers. That’s a good sign...

Full of all kinds of mozzarella, while
Kitchenless in Brookfield