Pizza Disaster

The half pack of mozzarella from my last/first pizza bake was still sitting in the top shelf of my refrigerator, mocking me.

It's been almost two months already. So finally, unable to stand the idea of a pack of cheese moulding away in my fridge, I bought another batch of ingredients and 2 pizza bases for another baking spree. However, this time, I was unassisted by my two dear Aussie pals who are now in little old kay el.

Rushed home after work, I dropped by the mini market, grabbed some more ingredients and enthusiastically began my chopping spree. One huge Bombay onion, one garlic, one capsicum, two tomatoes, some olives, six sausages and some spring onions (hey, this was my guinea pigs *cough* friend's idea).

Phew... mission accomplished. There's something therapeutic about sprinkling topping on pizza. (Now you know I'm a certified kitchen nutcase). Tomato paste, toppings, toppings and finally the annoying pack of mozarella cheese.

Sniff... sniff... what's this smell?

Smelled like an old wash cloth that's not been dried.

*Searching memory* did it smell like this before?

Looks yellow enough.

After weighing the pros and cons, I gave the finishing cheese topping touch to the pizza and chucked the assembled works into the oven.

Tick.. tick.. tick... tick..

There's something very annoying about an oven timer. My instincts were still bugging me so I called my colleague and enquired about the preservability of cheese.

'What? You have to store cheese in the freezer once it is opened, if you are not going to use it for a long time!'

Uh oh... my friend had arrived and a potential biohazard was steaming away in my precious little oven.

Ding... the thirty minutes were up.

I told my friend about the impending disaster. Anyway, he tried a bit and said nonchalantly, 'It tastes funny'.

I put some cheese into my mouth. Ugh! The only thing that's worse tasting than this must be blue cheese.

My friend who must have a stomach of steel was still happily peeling the sausages away from the cheese. Finally I had to separate them.

Fortunately, I still had some cheddar cheese and a second base on standby.

Behold, the survivor. . .

Burp.