Lasagna.

Melissa once told me that lasagna is a labor of love. Or, something like that.


My good friend Pam has recently given birth to lovely little Blanche. As it is my self-appointed duty to feed all my friends, especially in times of celebration, I wanted to make her something hearty, warming and fool proof. Lasagna was my dish of choice. 


I decided to go with Georgio Locatelli's recipe - his cookbook is my current favorite for all Italian foods. Unfortunate for me, this didn't call for jarred Ragu but rather the slow-cooked kind which took a 3 hour bite out of of yesterday afternoon. (Top tip - don't kid yourself that you are prepared to chop up 2kg of raw meat in order to save a few pennies.) Interestingly, he also doesn't use any cheese in his layers, just a bechamel sauce. I couldn't convince myself that was going to be tasty enough, though, so threw in plenty of mozzarella and Parmesan. 


Today was assembly. It takes a surprisingly long amount of time to put together layers that are all ready, yet separately, done. Maybe that was because I decided to blanche and then cold-soak the pasta; something I normally would just do without. Or maybe because my bechamel sauce was akin to play-doh and spreading it was like working with rubber cement. Regardless of the reason, it took me a long time, but I did finish.


So here we go, 3 little lasagna masterpieces, ready and waiting for Pam's oven and/or freezer. 

Wait... that's only 2 little lasagna masterpieces. Where's the 3rd? Well, my crazy and possibly drug-riddled neighbor came knocking on the door for money. The poor chap is deaf so it's very difficult to understand him, but I basically understood that his dog had chewed his £20 note and he was asking me to replace it. Um, no. 


We ended the conversation on amicably, but I nevertheless felt I should, and could, help this guy. (Yes, the other voice in my head was saying Stay The Hell Away.) And, anyway, did Pam really need 3 lasagnas? No. She's a strong, capable woman and I was making her a cake as well, anyway.

I hope he doesn't come knocking later for dessert.