I feel good about my murse

It was the reading glasses and the EpiPens that put me over the edge. For years, I thought about getting some kind of a man purse, or murse. Guys have carried them in Italy for years, and stylishly too, and I always envied my buddy Ed for having more room to carry his stuff around comfortably. But I never could find one I liked, so I stuck with the usual guy system of filling my pockets with stuff, sciatic nerve be damned. In his piece "I Feel Good About My Murse" (collected in Manhood for Amateurs [2009]),[1] Michael Chabon describes the ethic like this:

One of the fundamental axioms of masculine self-regard is that the tools and appurtenances of a man's life must be containable within the pockets of his jacket and pants. Wallet, keys, gum, show or ball game tickets, Kleenex, condoms, cell phone, maybe a lighter and a pack of cigarettes: Just cram it all in there motherfucker. . . .  Take away everything, cigarettes, phone, even keys, a man remains a man so long as he keeps his wallet pressed up against his body. A wallet is a man's totem, his distillation. It pockets his soul as he pockets it. The necessary corollary to this inviolate principle is that no man, ever, ought to carry a purse. Purses are for women; a purse is basically a vagina with a strap.

Chabon's aha moment came when he started carrying around a diaper bag along with his first child. He needed the diaper bag to tote the amazing amount of paraphernalia ("the full armamentarium") that goes with having a child nowadays, and realized that he could just chuck his own stuff in there, too, including his wallet and cell phone, rather than shoving it all down into his pants. Having finally escaped the tyranny of the wallet, Chabon decided it was time to face the scorn of others head on and become "[k]ind of like the Jackie Robinson of purse-wearing men." And so he ordered himself a brown suede murse, which is "soft and rugged at the same time the way only suede can seem." The murse holds just his essential stuff, including a book (he is an author after all), "but no more, and so I can wear it, and my masculinity, and my contempt for those who might mock or misunderstand me, very lightly indeed."

And Chabon is not alone these days, at least among celebrities, including Seal ("11 Men Who Totally Rock the Murse"), and other fashionistas ("Forget man bags: ‘Murses’ are the hot new accessory for men"). Still, I might not have starting rocking my own murse except that Brad finally found the perfect one for me in Seattle: navy blue canvas (which is even manlier than Chabon's "fawn-colored suede") and just the right size to hold all the stuff pictured below (plus EpiPens and then some):

So now I, too, can be like Mike (Chabon, not Jordan, who is the epitome of cool), [2] and feel pretty damn good about my murse.

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[1] I picked up a copy for exactly $1 at the Friends of the Library book sale. I do love that book sale.

[2] If you've never seen it, this is inarguably the greatest sports commercial ever made. It's so good, you have to watch the extended version, with the "be like Mike" rap.

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I grew up eating Sicilian pizza from the legendary Umberto's of New Hyde Park. In 2008, I saw a recipe for "Sheet Pan Pizza" in Cook's Country (Feb/Mar 2008) that produced a reasonable facsimile of an Umberto's Sicilian pizza, though nothing is exactly the same, of course. After the dark gluten-free days descended, however, it hardly seemed worth making the effort to produce that pizza on a regular basis and so it fell by the wayside. Instead, I took to making personal pizzas using various shortcuts, including frozen cauliflower crusts, so that Mom wouldn't be left out of the equation.

This recipe falls decidedly into the shortcut category, but it is still worth having here because Brad, Cass, and I all found it to produce a surprisingly good, "Umberto's-like" pizza, in Brad's words. And with a fraction of the effort of the old Sheet Pan Pizza recipe, which is clutch (like MJ) for a pair of time-crunched college students.

Bella's pizzas

Cassie's pzza

Shortcut Sicilian-Style Pizza

Time: ~1 hour (hardly any of it active)

I used Wegmans’ Pizza Dough made predominantly with Whole Wheat (that’s literally what the semi-misleading text on the packaging looks like). I haven’t seen a 28-ounce bag of pre-made pizza dough anywhere but Wegmans, but you should be able to substitute two of the standard 16-ounce dough balls instead.

28 ounces/794 grams refrigerated pizza dough (see note)
nonstick cooking spray
2 tablespoons (27 grams) extra-virgin olive oil
8 ounces/227 grams (1 cup) cup pizza or marinara sauce
1 teaspoon (5 grams) harissa (I used Trader Joe's Traditional Tunisian Harissa), optional but really tasty
~¾ teaspoon dried oregano
8 ounces/227 grams (2 cups) mozzarella, pre-shredded or shredded on the large holes of a box grater
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan, pecorino Romano, or Asiago cheese
2 tablespoons chiffonade of fresh basil

    1. Leave the pizza dough (still in the bag) on the counter to come to room temperature, about 30 to 60 minutes. With about 20 minutes to go, place a rack in the center of the oven, and heat to 400 degrees.
    2. When the dough is ready, spray an 18-by-13-inch baking sheet with nonstick cooking spray, then coat the baking sheet with the olive oil. Roll the dough in the oil so it is coated on all sides. Using your hands, gently stretch and pat the dough evenly over the pan; you should be able to make it most of the way into the corners but don’t worry if the dough snaps back a little bit in the corners.
    3. Mix the sauce and harissa together. Spoon the sauce over the dough, then use the back of the spoon to spread it evenly, leaving a ½-inch border around the edges. Sprinkle all over with the dried oregano. Sprinkle the shredded mozzarella evenly over the sauce, then the grated Parmesan, Romano, or Asiago.
    4. Place the pan in the preheated oven, and bake until the cheese is melted and a little browned and the crust is browned around the edges and on the bottom, about 20 minutes.
    5. Remove from the oven and sprinkle the basil evenly over the top of the pizza. Transfer to a cutting board and cut into 12 slices like they do it at Umberto’s. Serve promptly. Serves 3 or 4.