Part 1.

In January, I found myself a little restless and uninspired. I’d just wrapped up a consulting project and needed to begin the process of finding my next gig or fine-tuning my resume and making the jump to a staff position again. While both options were appealing, I found myself waking up each morning, saying to myself, “Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Why was I dragging my feet? Despite wanting to get to work and needing to line up income, I found it really hard to motivate to self-promote on LinkedIn or to craft a CV that could get past the resume bots but would utterly fail at highlighting my true strengths or creativity. So, I gave myself permission to spend a few days researching an affordable adventure. I needed to get out of town, to do something challenging and, most importantly, I needed to do it alone. In recent years, I’ve taken a couple of solo trips with spotty (or no) cell service and a few scary moments. Each time, I returned more confident, renewed, and ready to take on my next professional challenge.

I researched areas in Bali, a country that is known for being safe and easy for solo female travelers. I considered some AirBnB’s in small coastal areas in Central and South America. While these options would have been amazing, they weren’t really calling to me. Spending two weeks being a tourist on beautiful beaches, writing about myself, seemed too self-indulgent. I definitely needed to a more productive and meaningful option. I also had this overwhelming desire to learn something new, so I started searching for short courses in areas of interest, from immersive language programs to free diving.

And then, it hit me. I want to make pizza. Cue the song, “When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie…that’s amore.”

Nearly 15 years ago while editing a lifestyle magazine, I interviewed the owner of a new Italian restaurant in Madison, Wisconsin. Through this meeting, I learned about pizza di Napoli and was immediately enchanted by the salty, doughy goodness and the caramelized crust which was lightly kissed by some smoke god. The owner, Vincenzo, told me about the pizza traditions of Naples and the requirements for being certified. To make authentic pizza, one must use only certain ingredients, a specific oven, and a hand-stretched technique that creates the perfect shape and those signature air pockets along the crust.

Keep in mind, this was in the U.S. in 2009, a time when pizza was mostly ordered for a quick lunch or late night nosh. I had no intention of pursuing any pizza passions outside of my own weekly at-home bakes. Still, I tucked this information away for future reference. It just so happens the future came in during a late night search session in January 2023, when I started Googling pizza chef training Naples, Italy.

Before I knew it, I’d signed up for the next session, beginning February 5. Next, I needed to find a place to stay and secure a plane ticket; class would begin in less than 3 weeks. I’d be in 60 hours of intensive training, taught in Italian, for 9 days. I was excited. I’d found my challenge and my inspiration. Unfortunately a few days later, I also found anxiety about the whole endeavor. What the hell was I thinking!

Class is in Italian. I don’t speak Italian.
Class is expensive. I don’t have piles of cash.
Class is for professional chefs. I cook for fun.

As the reasons to bail on pizza school stacked up, two great things happened. First, like a best friend should, my sister gave me a verbal kick in the pants and told me to stop overthinking my decision. She reminded me that this was far less wild than other trips I’d taken alone, ones that made my mom a nervous wreck, like backcountry camping in Upper Michigan or staying in strangers’ spare rooms in small towns in Mexico. She also committed to watching my dog for 2-3 weeks, preempting any lame attempt to use him as an excuse.

My next kick in the pants came the following day from someplace or someone else—maybe the universe or the pizza gods?

While browsing a local bookshop, a “staff pick” selection caught my eye, prompting me to buy Martha Beck’s The Way of Integrity: Finding the Path to Your True Self. On any other day, I might have dismissed this title as a too woowoo, but today it hit me the right way. Of note, the book jacket featured an endorsement from Elizabeth Gilbert, of Eat, Pray, Love fame, who inspired thousands of middle-age white ladies to seriously consider leaving their husbands for young Italian men. I confess that years ago I, too, read Eat, Pray, Love and was intrigued by the idea. But, this trip was about making mad, sweet love to a classic margarita pizza and a lot of chocolate gelato.

With The Way of Integrity and a new journal in hand, I headed to my favorite brewery to order a hazy IPA and jot down some thoughts about what was next. A few scribbles later, I got bored by my own thoughts and self-doubt about the trip, so I started my book. More than 99% of the time, I skip an author’s introduction, but that day, I decided to start at the beginning.

Imagine how floored I was when I read the last sentence on page xx. Beck writes:

So if you’re ready to abandon suffering, embrace your true nature, and experience the joy you know you’re meant to feel, let’s begin. What, you may ask, does the way of integrity actually look like? I will tell you. It looks like an epic medieval Italian fantasy adventure quest!

Did I really just read that? Yes, I did. Then I read it again. Then, I underlined it and made a note of the time and date. At 4:10 p.m. on January 10, 2023, I committed to pizza school and never looked back.

In Knead of Adventure

Part 1.

Part 2

Fresh pressed ideas.