Spinach-Stuffed Pizza

The freezer is full. That is the first sentence of most of my weeks, and it remains the first sentence today. The week was a fall week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan, 20, is in the Philippines on his mission. He sends emails on Mondays. I read them on Mondays. The day is now structured around his email. Olivia is 18, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 15, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 14, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 11, the comedian, the performer — the kid who does an impression of my disappointed face in front of company, and gets away with it. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

The recipe of the week was baked ziti, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. I labeled every bag — meal, date, reheating instructions, servings — because future-me is the woman I am writing for, and future-me is tired. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

Brandon and I sat at the kitchen island on Thursday night and did not talk much, and the not-talking was a language we built in therapy and have refused to unlearn. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.

Twenty-eight bags. Labeled. Dated. Stacked. The week, in the only currency that matters in this house.

The baked ziti went into the freezer, but on one of those quieter midweek evenings — the kind where Brandon and I sat at the island and let the silence do its work — what I actually pulled out and made fresh was this Spinach-Stuffed Pizza, because it hits the same warm, cheesy, Italian-comfort note without requiring the full Sunday-prep commitment. It’s the kind of recipe I keep in rotation for the nights between the freezer meals, the nights that don’t need a system, just something good on the table and enough quiet to hear it.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb pizza dough (store-bought or homemade), divided in half
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus more for brushing
3 cloves garlic, minced
10 oz fresh spinach (or one 10 oz package frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry)
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup ricotta cheese
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup pizza sauce or marinara, for dipping

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Lightly grease a large baking sheet or 12-inch round pizza pan with olive oil.
Cook the spinach filling. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and cook 1 minute until fragrant. Add spinach and cook, stirring, until wilted (about 3 minutes for fresh; 2 minutes for frozen). Season with red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat and let cool slightly, then press out any excess moisture.
Mix the cheese filling. In a medium bowl, combine ricotta, 1 cup of the mozzarella, and the Parmesan. Stir in the cooked spinach mixture until evenly combined.
Roll the dough. Divide the pizza dough in half. On a lightly floured surface, roll one half into a 12-inch round and lay it on the prepared pan.
Add the filling. Spread the spinach and cheese mixture evenly over the dough, leaving a 1-inch border around the edge. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup mozzarella over the top of the filling.
Top and seal. Roll the second half of the dough into a 12-inch round and lay it over the filling. Press the edges together firmly, then fold and crimp to seal. Brush the top with a thin coat of olive oil.
Score and bake. Cut 3 or 4 small slits in the top of the dough to allow steam to escape. Bake for 22–25 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the edges are set.
Rest and slice. Let the pizza rest for 5 minutes before slicing into 8 wedges. Serve with warm marinara or pizza sauce on the side for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spinach-Stuffed Pizza — The Week in Twenty-Eight Bags