There may not be a rolling pin at the house in Florida, but there's plenty of wine!

I am not one of those cooks that can’t do a single thing without a kitchen fully-loaded with high-end tools. Don’t get me wrong, I have been known to shell out a lot of cash for nice pans and I do wax lyrical occasionally about my fillet knife, but some of my seminal cooking adventures happened over a Coleman stove and at a certain camp up in Muncie where we were lucky to have food, let alone something in which to cook it.

So when I ventured down to Mom’s house in Bonita Springs, made up a batch of my famous pizza dough, and started planning toppings, I didn’t panic when the dough was done and I realized there was no rolling pin. It’s just a good thing we hadn’t uncorked the last bottle of wine…