Has anyone else seen the documentary Forks over Knives? The man and I watched it a few weeks ago, and we've been pounding the broccoli ever since. I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Loved it? Hated it? If you haven't seen it, check out the trailer below and then stream it on Netflix.

My only criticism . . . the film focuses so much on what NOT to do, without many practical suggestions if you're ready to make a change. So here is a pasta packed with veggies.

We topped with parmesan cheese which I don't think is Forks-over-Knives-approved, but it makes the pasta exponentially better. You weigh the pros and cons for yourself.

Put a large pot of generously salted water to boil. While you're waiting for it to boil, chop all of your veggies and spread on a roasting tray. Drizzle with olive oil and some coarse kosher salt. Roast veggies on 450 for about 15 minutes so they are cooked, but still a little crispy.

When water is boiled, add pasta to cook for about 3 - 5 minutes, so it is almost cooked to your desired tenderness, but not quite. Before you strain the pasta, scoop out about a cup of the starchy water and reserve (a thick mug works well.) Strain the pasta.

In a large sauté pan over medium heat, melt better and add a little olive oil. Sauté garlic and shallot until tender and add a pinch of red pepper flakes. Add all the crunchy veggies and stir together with garlic and shallots.

Then add your desired amount of pasta on top of the veggies. This is where the reserved starchy water comes in. Add it slowly to help loosen up the pasta. Mix together.

Top with the cup of cheese and give it a final stir. The cheese will melt and add a slight creamy texture to the dish. Taste and season with salt and pepper as desired.

Feel extra virtuous and serve with a salad of arugula, sliced tomatoes and a little more parmesan cheese. Drizzle with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and a little salt. Enjoy!

I like to think of myself as breezy. I want to be the kind of person you can invite to a lake house and I casually say, “I’ll take care of dinner.” Maybe I’ll look effortless chic and make a casual pizza from scratch. Roll out the dough quickly and top it with organic ingredients.

Unfortunately, I’m not breezy. There is 0% breeze going through my personality. I’m a slightly cranky pregnant lady who tried to make a damn pizza and ended up cursing and throwing away my pizza stone while proclaiming, “you’re dead to me!”

The full story:

I started with pizza dough from the infamous Jimmy’s in Dallas. Good start. Too bad I forgot a rolling pin. No problem. Breezy me can use a bottle of Worcestershire sauce to roll it out. I even remembered to flour the counter so it didn’t stick.

Then I transferred the dough to a pizza stone we received as a wedding gift. It holds more heat so the crust gets crispy. All sounds good so far.

I topped with some tomato sauce, shredded mozzarella cheese and every veggie I could think of. I’m feeling effortlessly chic even though I’m wearing pajamas at 6 pm.

Into the oven as high as it will go, and wait 30 minutes. The veggies cook down significantly to look something like this:

Then the drama started. I forgot to flour the pizza stone. The pizza crust and the pizza stone had baked together into a new compound called “Screw-You-Catherine!” I also couldn’t wait until the pizza cooled. I had my mind set on salvaging this pizza and serving it while it was still hot. I took a meat cleaver to the bottom of the pizza trying to separate it. Not surprisingly I mutilated the pizza stone, mutilated the pizza, and somehow lit an oven mitt on fire. I proceeded to lose it. Through my meltdown, I salvaged a few hunks of veggies with melted cheese and served it to my unknowing sister-in-law and her very hungry boyfriend.

I scraped the burnt remnants free from the pizza stone and worked on toning my arms in the process. I thought I would give the pizza stone one more go-round while it was scraped and practically bloody.

I made pizza number 2. I floured the stone. I was set up for success.

Unfortunately, I assembled the entire pizza on the counter. Note to self: raw pizza dough loaded with toppings cannot be lifted. I could not transfer it to the stone no matter how I tried.

Surrendering to the pizza gods, I folded the entire pizza-baby in half and called it a calzone. It cooked unevenly. The insides were gooshy. But we ate it. Nobody went hungry.

Accepting my non-breezy-ness, I threw the damn pizza stone in the trash and committed to ordering takeout for future pizza nights.

**PS. The man would like to add that he cooked a drama-free pizza before I started my fiasco, and it turned out just great. His perfectly executed man-pizza is the top picture.