Making dinner for the five of us kids every night was a balancing act. On any given day, some of us would want pizza, some of us would want frijoles, some of us would want tacos. But our mom was up for the challenge. She took two of those cravings and cut what we called bolillos (rolls of bread) in half, smeared butter across the top, covered them in frijoles, pizza sauce, and cheese, and then put them in the oven. These resourceful and satisfying creations didn’t have a name until one evening when we were having a “smorgasbord night” (what our family called dinners that were constructed entirely out of leftovers and odds and ends from the fridge) our brother Rob asked for “frijolizzas.” The name stuck, and so did the recipe.