Dante tossed dough into the air, spinning and catching it with ease. The centripetal force is what made the flattened crust for the pie; it wasn’t magic, but simple physics. Pizza 3.14 had closed for the night so he and Izz were alone in the pizza kitchen.
Once the crust was the thickness Dante liked, he added the sauce and mozz. “You like basil?” he asked Izz who was sitting on a barstool that had been brought into the kitchen.
Izz shrugged. “I guess, never really had it.”
“You probably have.” Dante’s lips pulled back into a wide toothy grin. He laid thin slices of Roma tomatoes around the pizza along with bright green whole basil leaves he’d picked from the greenhouse that Papi had built on the adjoining lot when he’d first opened the restaurant. “Most of the vegetables and herbs we g
