The first week without Babcia. The first week of the rest of my life.
I didn't go to her house. I couldn't. Mom and Dad are handling the practical things — her finances, her belongings, the future of the house. I told them I'd come when I was ready. They said okay.
I went back to the brewery on Monday. Marcus was there. He didn't say "I'm sorry" or "How are you" or any of the things people say. He handed me a mash paddle and said, "We're brewing a wheat beer. You're on grain." And I worked. For eight hours I lifted grain bags and monitored temperatures and cleaned tanks and didn't think about anything except the process. The rhythm of work. The mercy of routine.
Marcus found me in the cold room at the end of the day, sitting on a keg, staring at nothing. He sat down next to me. We sat there for five minutes without speaking. Then he said, "Brew the Polish wheat beer. Brew it for her." And he got up and went home.
I brewed the Polish wheat beer on Thursday. Caraway and coriander and anise. The bread spices of Babcia's kitchen. I adjusted the recipe — more caraway than the test batch, because Babcia always said "more." More dill. More prunes. More time. More everything. She believed in abundance. In generosity. In the idea that food should be too much rather than not enough.
The wort smelled like rye bread. Like Babcia's kitchen on a Sunday morning. I stood over the boil kettle and inhaled and for a second — just one second — I was in her kitchen and she was humming and the light was coming through the window and everything was okay.
I didn't cook at home this week. I ate at the brewery canteen. I ate cereal. I ate a frozen pizza — the first in two years. I'm not ready to cook yet. The kitchen is too quiet.
Sunday: no dinner. No Babcia's house. No family gathering. I sat in my apartment and watched a Bucks game and ate leftover pizza and it was the worst Sunday of my life.
But I brewed. I brewed for her. And the wheat beer is fermenting now, and it smells like her kitchen, and that's enough. For now, that's all I can do.
I’m not ready to cook a real meal yet — not the kind Babcia would recognize, not the kind that fills a table. But the frozen pizza on that Sunday night sat wrong with me in a way I can’t shake, and I think she would’ve had something to say about it. This White Chicken Pizza isn’t a Sunday dinner at her table. It’s somewhere in between: more effort than a freezer box, less weight than a full kitchen session. It’s the recipe I’m leaving here for the next bad Sunday — mine or yours — when you need something warm that you actually made yourself.
White Chicken Pizza
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb pizza dough, store-bought or homemade, at room temperature
- 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 3/4 cup ricotta cheese
- 1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella, divided
- 1/3 cup grated Parmesan
- 1 1/2 cups cooked chicken breast, thinly sliced or shredded
- 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Fresh basil leaves, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat. Place a baking sheet or pizza stone in the oven and preheat to 450°F. Letting the surface heat up gives you a crisper crust.
- Make the white base. In a small bowl, combine the ricotta, half the mozzarella, Parmesan, minced garlic, Italian seasoning, red pepper flakes, and a generous pinch of salt and pepper. Stir until smooth.
- Shape the dough. On a lightly floured surface, stretch or roll the dough into a 12-inch round. Transfer to a piece of parchment paper. Brush the outer edge with 1 tablespoon of olive oil.
- Assemble. Spread the ricotta mixture evenly over the dough, leaving a 1-inch border. Lay the chicken over the top, then scatter the remaining mozzarella over everything. Drizzle with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil.
- Bake. Slide the pizza (on its parchment) onto the preheated baking sheet or stone. Bake for 17–20 minutes, until the crust is golden and the cheese is bubbling and lightly browned at the edges.
- Finish and serve. Let the pizza rest for 2 minutes before slicing. Scatter fresh basil leaves over the top and serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 30g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 37g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 710mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 100 of Jake’s 30-year story
· Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.