When I awoke bleary-eyed at 12:15 am last night, I rolled over to Jeff's side of the bed to discover a still-warm, empty spot. Fearing he was ill, I immediately walked to the bathroom. Empty. I walked into the kitchen and there he was, standing in the darkened room lit only by the bluish glow of the refrigerator light. His cheeks were bulging, and he was holding a big slice of leftover eggplant and caramelized onion pizza.
"Watcha doin'?" I asked.
"Noffin," he said, trying unsuccessfully, to hide the ball of pizza stuffed in his mouth.
"Doesn't look like nothin'," I said, "Looks like pizza."
"You're dreaming. Go back to bed," he said.
If ever there was a pizza worth getting up in the middle of the night, it's this eggplant, caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza with smoked mozzarella.