Sauerkraut Pizza

October leaves. The hollow on fire with color. Worked at the construction company in Lexington this week. The body holds. Most days.

Connie at the vet clinic, four shifts this week. Her back is tired. She does not say so. I see it. Mama is 86. She is the toughest person I have ever known. She still cooks every day in the company house in Evarts.

Smoked pork shoulder Saturday. Twelve hours. Hickory. The smokehouse earning its keep.

Travis called Tuesday. The landscaping company is busy. He sounds tired in a good way. Amber called Sunday. Things are good. James sends his regards.

Connie made biscuits. The biscuits were biscuits. Some things stay.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

My back was tight after the wood-splitting Saturday. Took an Aleve. Slept eight hours. Got up.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

I split a half-cord of wood Saturday. Slowly. The back does not let me work fast anymore. It got done. The wood was for the smokehouse.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

I went up to Earl's grave at the Evarts cemetery Saturday. Brought a beer. Drank half. Poured the rest on the dirt. Some traditions are mine alone.

The smoked shoulder took twelve hours and a half-cord of hickory, and when it was done the smokehouse had earned its keep — same as the pantry does every fall when Connie puts up jam and the shelves start filling against winter. This sauerkraut pizza comes from that same place in me: the instinct toward preserved things, food that has been worked on and waited on, flavors that are sharp and honest and don’t apologize for themselves. Connie made it once on a Friday when I came in tired from Lexington, and it tasted exactly like the end of a long week should.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb pizza dough, store-bought or homemade, at room temperature
1 cup sauerkraut, well drained and lightly squeezed dry
1/2 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
1 1/2 cups shredded low-moisture mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup thinly sliced smoked kielbasa or smoked sausage
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Cornmeal, for dusting the pan

Instructions

Preheat. Set oven to 475°F. Place a heavy baking sheet or pizza stone on the center rack and let it heat for at least 15 minutes.
Make the garlic oil. Stir together 1 1/2 tablespoons of the olive oil and the minced garlic in a small bowl. Set aside.
Stretch the dough. On a lightly floured surface, stretch or roll the dough into a roughly 12-inch round. Transfer to a cornmeal-dusted sheet of parchment paper.
Build the base. Brush the dough evenly with the garlic oil, leaving a 3/4-inch border. Dollop the ricotta in small spoonfuls across the surface and spread gently.
Layer the toppings. Scatter the drained sauerkraut evenly over the ricotta. Distribute the kielbasa slices across the top. Cover with the shredded mozzarella. Sprinkle with caraway seeds, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. Drizzle the remaining 1/2 tablespoon olive oil over all.
Bake. Slide the pizza (on parchment) onto the preheated pan or stone. Bake 16–18 minutes, until the crust is deep golden at the edges and the cheese is bubbling and beginning to brown in spots.
Rest and slice. Let the pizza rest 3 minutes before cutting. Slice into 8 pieces and serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sauerkraut Pizza — The Pantry Earns Its Keep