Sometimes the Lasagne Wins (Pasta 1, Trish 0)

One of the things I love about cooking—and part of why I entered the Favorite Chef Competition—is that food can be wonderfully unpredictable.

Once, I tried making historically accurate rose water. It turned into sparkling wine. I had carefully put the bottle away and (of course) forgot about it.

When I found it again later, I started to open it and heard a glorious fizz. Apparently, a natural yeast had been introduced with the flower petals. In any case, I now know how to make rosé wine.

To quote James Joyce, “Mistakes are the portals of discovery.”

Onward and upward.

Cooking Lesson #43: There is no such thing as a “small” lasagne.

I’ve tried. It does not exist.

As our household has slimmed in number, I still want to make it—but there is always too much. One year, after finishing a holiday lasagne, I realized it was… very heavy. For giggles, I weighed it.

Twenty pounds, folks. Twenty.

Clean up in aisle 3

So now I’m rethinking strategy: how to buy less of each component without losing its soul.

My usual lineup: Ground beef, red sauce, mini-diced Italian tomatoes, noodles (extra basil), mozzarella, ricotta, garlic, onion, green pepper, onion powder, garlic powder, salt, and pepper.

I’m considering sliced mozzarella (better layering control) and maybe folding leftover tomatoes into the remaining sauce and freezing it. I am open to suggestions (or, more accurately, mildly pleading for them).

As an aside, I’ve discovered lasagne-making is an excellent offering for St. Anthony (lovingly called “Tony” here, in a suitably terrible Italian accent), the Patron Saint of lost items. It works every time.