As those of you know who have read this blog faithfully and in a state of more than semi-consciousness, Saturday marks Pizza & Movie Night in our house and has for 15 years or so. Last night was no exception. I had purchased some very cute baby eggplant and beautiful basil at Whole Foods, and yesterday, from opening day of the Memphis Farmers Market, we brought home, among other green things, garlic sprouts and spring onions.

I sliced the eggplant thinly, doused the pieces with olive oil, salt and pepper, and slide them under the broiler, watching carefully so they didn’t burn. For the rest, I used thin slices of Roma tomatoes, one of those garlic sprouts — they’re quite peppery — , chopped spring onions, diced applewood smoked bacon, and mozzarella, parmesan and pecorino romano cheeses. The dough had rolled out perfectly, so I was entertaining intimations of this being a great pizza, perhaps one of the best.

Now, to fill in the background of this story, we have been fostering a pit bull-boxer mix dog since December. Her name is Mary Sue. She’s not particularly large, weighing probably 35 to 37 pounds, but she’s very strong. I mean the muscles in her thighs are terrific; it looks as if she goes to the gym every day and works out with a personal trainer. Mary Sue’s obsession is fabric. When she first came to stay with us, she slept on a pallet of dog mats, blankets and towels that she carefully arranged when it was time for a nap or to settle in for the night. I mean, she would actually move the blankets and towels around and put them in what was to her proper order. (She sleeps in a crate now.)

When Mary Sue was intoduced into the kitchen/sitting room with the rest of the dogs, she transferred this fabricophilia to dish-towels, hot-pads and napkins, which at every opportunity she would filch from counter-tops and towel racks and dash off with, to chew and mangle and generally have fun. We find this activity quite annoying and try to stop her at every opportunity.

So, last night I had finished making the pizza, which takes me about an hour, with all the chopping and dicing and rolling out the dough and laying on the ingredients. Just before the moment of truth, that is, sliding the pizza from the wooden paddle onto the hot stone in the oven (always a tense interlude), I turned for a moment to store the cheese in the refrigerator. This action took all of five seconds, and when I turned back, there was Mary Sue, dragging the uncooked pizza off the counter.

I shrieked with the pain of any artist seeing a creation (and dinner) being destroyed by the teeth of a ravaging canine. LL came running and we managed to get the pizza out of Mary Sue’s mouth — by this time of course all the dogs were jumping around, snatching pieces of bacon, tomato and mozzarella from the floor — and fling it back on the paddle, a deconstructed heap of sticky dough clotted with food-stuff. I, ever the pessimist, said, “Well, that’s it. The pizza’s ruined. So much for Pizza & Movie Night.” LL, however, said, “Maybe we can salvage it.”

And so, working slowly and meticulously, we managed to pull the inter-folded dough apart and gingerly spread it out into an irregular shape. We picked through the ingredients and placed them back in some semblance of a pattern. It looked bizarre, but I slid it into the oven.

Mary Sue looked completely untouched by regret or remorse and, in fact, when the pizza came out of the oven thought she saw a second chance to grab the thing, though I kept it beyond her reach. It looked pretty damned good, and actually turned out to be a Great Pizza and One of the Best in the History of FK’s Pizza-Making.

To drink with it, I opened a bottle of the Domaine Bernard Baudry Chinon 2007, a 100 percent cabernet franc wine from France’s Central Loire Valley, where cabernet franc is the dominant red grape. The domaine, founded in 1975, is fairly young by the standards of the Loire Valley. Bernard Baudry produces four levels of Chinon cabernet france, of which the “Domaine” bottling, produced from 35-year-old vines, is the second. Domaine Bernard Baudry Chinon 2007 is made from two terroirs, 50 percent gravel and 50 percent limestone soil. The wine is fermented in concrete vats and aged about a year in a combination of large casks and small barrels. No herbicides or chemicals are used at the estate.

This is classic Chinon, smoky and fleshy, though a bit broodsome in its notes of blueberry and black currant and its layers of black olive, dried thyme and leather. The wine is quite dry, and slightly woody tannins and dusty shale-like minerality produce some austerity from mid-palate back through the finish; I left the bottle with the cork in it overnight and by morning it resolved nicely, bringing in elements of Oolong tea, sage, bergamot, patchouli and bitter chocolate, though the tannins, bolstered by lively acidity, still cut a swath. Yes, it’s pretty heady stuff. I would recommend letting the wine breathe for an hour before serving. Drink now to 2016 or ’17, with hearty fare such as braised or roasted meat or eggplant-and-bacon pizzas. Very Good+. About $18 to $22.
Imported by Louis/Dressner Selections, New York. A sample for review.