Would you like a piece with a cuppa to enjoy while we muse about lasagna?
Joe made Lasagna most years for Cole’s birthday. It went something like this:
Day 1. Scrub two very large pans, and put them out on the counter. Pans must remain on counter. If someone runs the kitchen water, race to kitchen to make sure pans have not been contaminated with soapy water.
Day 2. Trip to Caputos (Italian grocery store) to buy groceries. Return home with several heavy bags filled with cans and spices. Insist that the cans and spices remain on counter.
Day 3. Morning: Take lasagna pans to the Italian grocer, who makes fresh noodles, and have him cut the noodles to fit the pan.
Day 3. Afternoon: Trip to Caputos to buy produce for the lasagna. Come home and insist produce be kept on counter.
Day 3. Night: Turn on music, fix drink, and yell at Kb for giving away large stirring spoon; Kb finds spoon she has hidden. Cut, chop, brown, and curse because of a forgotten item at the store. Make up with Kb, so she will stand and stir the sauce while I run to the store.
Day 3. Late night: Put finishing touches on Lasagnas. Leave everything on the counter, in the sink, and on the floor because there will be plenty of time to clean up tomorrow.
Day 4. Late morning. Stumble out to kitchen, make coffee, admire lasagnas. Wonder why Kb is so concerned about cleaning up the kitchen — it’s 10 a.m. and the party is not until 4 p.m.
Day 4. Early afternoon: Wonder why Kb keeps nagging about garlic bread and produce. After all, the lasagna is done. No, I don’t want her to do it.
Day 4. Mid-afternoon: Butter garlic bread, and make salad. Crap! Forgot to buy the perfect vinegar to make the salad dressing that will pair nicely with the lasagna. Run to Caputos to pick up vinegar. Kb yells something about 50 guests in two hours. Not a problem — I just need to grab a shower, and make the salad and garlic bread. And did she mention something about chairs in the loft?
Day 4. 3:30 p.m.: Clean kitchen. Can’t find a thing. For God’s sake, what’s the rush!
Day 4. 7:00 p.m.: Lasagna is bubbling but needs to rest.
Day 4. 7:30 p.m.: Kb is glaring at me. Insists it’s time to eat.
Day 4. 8:00 p.m.: Man that Lasagna was devoured. I wonder if people were hungry.
Day 4. 12:00 a.m.: Party is over. Sit on couch and talk with Kb about how much everyone loved my lasagna. Kb admits I make the best lasagna in the whole world.
Fast forward from March to May: Our next door neighbor invited us to dinner to celebrate her husband’s birthday. At dinner, she puts a Sara Lee Lasagna on the table and announces, after her first bite, that it’s almost as good as Joe’s lasagna. Joe chokes on his piece of lasagna and that night has awful dreams about being locked in a kitchen with Sara Lee. I had to pat his back and reassure him over and over that our neighbors just did not understand fine Italian cuisine.
I was going to make a lasagna to celebrate Lasagna Day, but it was too hot, and so I bought one. Not Sarah Lee though. I bought Stouffer’s Lasagna, made with garden fresh vegetables and sea salt.
When I put it on the kitchen counter,
Joe’s urn began to spin — I put a pillow over it. Later I patted his urn and reassured him later that his lasagna was still the best I had ever eaten . . . except for my mother’s of course.
Emily made this beautiful veggie lasagna! “Made it, half baked it, turned off the stove an went to karate. An hour or so later, turned stove back on for 15 minutes to golden it up, done. House isn’t too hot and smells fabulous!”
Odd loves Company, so if you are in the mood to muse, leave a comment.
Up next: Oysters and International Beer Day! See you tomorrow.