Victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. Our first pizza was a blackened mess in about 4 seconds due to miscommunication about the temperature we'd used in our test run. Plus, the boys couldn't have cared less about the pizza preparation process; that is, until they saw the first finished pizza.
Still, I should've been better prepared for their version of "assisting". These pictures don't show Dylan pouring about a cup of grated Parmesan down the back of Cole's shirt (though below you can see him happily emptying the last few crumbs into Cole's hair).
Half of our time at the grill was spent making sure no one disfigured themselves or spilled anything unfixably. A quarter of our time was spent ferrying pizzas inside to be finished under the broiler. The remainder was spent on the rather time-sensitive process of grilling pizza.
Mara did a great job under the circumstances. Turns out that on the Grand Turbo, 500F was the temperature that allowed us to control what was happening with more than one pizza at a time. Any hotter and things burned. We were using the broiler to brown the tops, b/c otherwise things just didn't look right.
Lastly: that whole business about people getting to choose what they wanted on their pizza? This wasn't really in line with the assistants' vision. In order for the assistants to be interested, they had to be in charge of what was on the pizzas. Which explains the look and feel of the pizzas near the bottom of this post.
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