Last week, I had a very sudden and clear thought. The second it appeared in my brain, all other thoughts vanished. I could only focus on this singular idea, and nothing else. The swiftness and intensity with which it was thought was overpowering. And so, I sat there, watching television, when I realized:
I want lasagna.
I didn’t want it right that very second (though, really, is there ever a bad time for lasagna? I mean, it’s a food that shows up after both funerals and weddings. It’s universally accepted), but I knew it had to be soon. So off to the Internet I went, found me a recipe, and gathered a list o’ ingredients.
And today, folks, is the day I’ve been waiting for: this afternoon-ish, I shall make my lasagna.
It might have occurred to you that this all is a little strange, this obsession with lasagna. On the contrary, my excitement is over the opportunity to cook something, from (almost) scratch. It surprises some folks to learn that I really, really love to cook; this is surprising because I’m not all that great at it. I mean, I’ve not yet poisoned anyone (of which I’m aware), and the finished product is generally edible, but when it comes down to it I’m just as average as the next guy or gal (though maybe under-average when it comes to pot roast. I’ve never made one and don’t really know what I’d do after, you know, sticking it in the oven). Lately, folks have assumed that baking is my forte, and though I’ve ended up with some pretty awesome cupcake experiments, it’s not necessarily my joie de vivre. Sure, I like playing around with things (mostly, adding enough chocolate chips to a batch of cookies to test the laws of physics), but I’ve been weirdly lucky in that – mostly – my baked goods have been well-received.
Common sense would say I should stick with what I’m “good” at it, to go with what I know. But common sense doesn’t control most parts of my brain, particularly the part that tells me I’m hungry (this is why I end up putting salsa on EVERYTHING, with the exception of Rice Krispies or peach cobbler). Common sense isn’t driven by my overwhelming desire to make a lasagna from scratch, and serve it with (bagged) salad and (frozen) garlic bread.
More importantly, I’ve managed to ignore my common sense for oh, 28 years now. Ain’t gonna start paying attention now!
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
The picture is sort of disgusting (also, who serves corn on the cob with lasagna? Am I missing something here?), but here‘s the recipe I’m using today.