Pepperoni Pizza Loaf -- The One I Make When the Marines Come Over

Easter weekend. The base chapel was packed. Caleb had baseball practice Tuesday and Thursday. I drove.

Caleb, 8, wants to be a firefighter still. Has not deviated. Hazel, 4, chaos incarnate. Put a peanut butter sandwich in the DVD player Wednesday. Showed zero remorse.

Sheet pan chicken Wednesday. Chicken thighs, potatoes, broccoli, olive oil, salt. One pan. The blueprint of weeknight dinner.

Megan called from D.C.. We talked twenty minutes. The relationship is better now than it was.

The freezer is the secret. The freezer was full this week.

Wednesday morning meal prep — Sunday afternoon, hours of containers. The freezer is full. The future-me thanks present-me. Donna taught me this routine. Donna's freezer was always full. Donna saved her sanity with quart bags labeled in Sharpie.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night writing in the journal. Volume 11 now. The handwriting has not gotten neater. The journals are a record of the life I am living, in the moment, in tiny script that I will look back on someday and not be able to read. That is okay. The writing was the thing.

Ryan went to his counselor Wednesday. He always comes home calmer. I am calm too, just from him being calm. The man Torres was killed with — Ryan calls his wife twice a year on Torres's birthday and the anniversary. The military widows are their own community.

The kids' soccer game was Saturday morning. The other parents brought oranges and Capri Suns. I brought a thermos of coffee for myself and a folding chair I bought at Target three years ago that has been to four duty stations now. The chair is a more loyal companion than some of my friends.

I made a casserole for a neighbor whose husband is deployed. I dropped it off. She cried. I told her, eat the casserole, baby. The food is the saying. The casserole was a mostly-frozen tater-tot situation that took fifteen minutes of effort and six months of practice to perfect.

The military spouses' Facebook group had a small drama this week. Two women fighting over the playgroup schedule. I muted notifications and cooked dinner. Some weeks the group is the lifeline. Some weeks it is the source of unnecessary stress. The skill is knowing which week you're in.

Dad called. He has been gardening. He is sending zucchini updates again. The PTSD is managed. He talks more than he used to. He is becoming his own version of healed, which I did not think was possible at fourteen.

Base housing is base housing. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige expectations. The dryer venting is in a stupid place. The kitchen has no dishwasher. We make it work.

I read the blog comments at the kitchen table with my coffee. A young spouse in Lejeune emailed me about deployment cooking. I wrote her back at length. I told her about the freezer. I told her about Donna. I told her she would survive. I sent her three of Donna's recipes.

The PCS rumors are starting again. The official orders will come in a few months. We could move. We could stay. The waiting is the worst part. Three years here and I have learned to not put down deep roots in any military town. Nineteen-year-old me would not have believed how good I have gotten at packing.

Ryan's friends came over Friday for a beer. I made wings and chips. They demolished both. Standard Marine appetite — they eat like they are still on rations. The kitchen looked like a battlefield by the end. They cleaned up. Marines clean up. Donna would have been impressed.

Friday night when Ryan’s friends came through, I wasn’t going to make anything complicated — not after the week I’d had, not after baseball practice twice over and a casserole drop-off and the Facebook group drama I was still mentally muting. Wings and chips did the job, and this pepperoni pizza loaf is the kind of thing I keep in rotation for exactly those nights: one pan, twenty minutes, gone before you can blink. Donna would have approved. It’s the kind of recipe that doesn’t ask anything of you except to show up.

Pepperoni Pizza Loaf

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 large Italian or French bread loaf (about 14 inches), halved lengthwise
• 3/4 cup pizza sauce
• 2 cups shredded whole-milk mozzarella cheese
• 4 oz sliced pepperoni (about 60 slices)
• 1/2 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese
• Red pepper flakes, for serving (optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 400°F. Line a large sheet pan with foil for easy cleanup.
2. Prepare the bread. Place both bread halves cut-side up on the prepared sheet pan. Brush each half lightly with olive oil.
3. Sauce and season. Spread pizza sauce evenly over both halves, going nearly to the edges. Sprinkle garlic powder and Italian seasoning over the sauce.
4. Layer the cheese. Distribute the shredded mozzarella evenly across both halves in a generous layer.
5. Top with pepperoni. Arrange the pepperoni slices in a single layer over the cheese, covering as much surface as possible.
6. Finish and bake. Sprinkle Parmesan over the top. Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted, bubbling, and beginning to brown at the edges and the bread crust is crisp on the bottom.
7. Slice and serve. Let rest 2 minutes, then slice each half crosswise into 4 pieces. Serve with red pepper flakes on the side if you like heat.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 375 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 830mg