Mangia!

I am going to tell you about lasagna tonight. Lasagna is very good and I'm certain that many of you enjoy a nice, steaming plate of it every now and again. I happen to have been eating it all week. It's not really my normal topic of blogversation, though.

But I'm stuck. I could chat about the knitting if I thought anyone was interested in the 1/100000th of a inch that I have knit since last we spoke. (And why would you be?) The cats are always good for material, but they have been pretty quiet today so that's not interesting. And work? The joys of teaching? Not a good idea.

Were I to even begin describing this day, there would be a black van screeching up to my doorstop before bedtime. I would be hastily bundled into a sack and transported to a bland hotel room in an undisclosed location where I would be subjected to the less-than-gentle ministrations of the deprogrammers while they doggedly tried to help me understand how my career choice is killing my spirit.

You'd call them. You'd do it in a heartbeat. And then who'd feed the cats? We are talking about the lasagna. That is final.

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself saying, "My gracious, Sheepie! How long has it been since you made a nice lasagna? Why I can't remember the last time we did that! I do believe it is time to make one!" I hastened to the store to purchase the fixings for just that very thing.

I wanted to make a veggie version, so I purchased peppers, onions, zucchini and all sorts of other very healthy things from the produce department. I combed the noodle aisle for just the right pasta and found a sauce I thought would work nicely. (I thought about making sauce, but that was just ridiculous...) I purchased some nice mozzarella, but decided to forgo the ricotta. I knew that the lowfat cottage cheese wouldn't be quite as tasty, but that it would be a perfectly acceptable substitute, not to mention healthy.

I am, after all, a master lasagna maker.

I then put away all the ingredients and lost interest. It was a week before I remembered that lasagna stuff. I figured it would be kind of silly to waste all that shopping time so, last weekend, I proceeded to build my lasagna. As I said earlier, I couldn't remember the last time I'd made it, but I figured it would all come back to me.

And it did. I roasted all the veggies to bring out their succulent flavors. I boiled the noodles to a perfect state of al dente goodness. I lightly scrambled an egg to mix with the cheeses so as to give them the perfect, creamy texture. Before long, I was in the zone and singing a hearty Italian ballad which, loosely translated, described the joys of strolling through the vineyard with my one true love. Or how no one loves you like your mother. Or something like that. I don't actually speak Italian...

There I was, with the makings of the perfect lasagna all ready to go, with nothing left to do but assemble this masterpiece, and all of a sudden it hit me. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I combed my motor memory file, hoping that the muse which had carried me this far would return, but nothing happened. I attempted to recreate a visual picture of the last time I had done this and saw nothing playing on the inner-mind-screen. It struck me full force, like a Maserati flying down the road at top speed...

I have never once before in my entire life made a lasagna. Ever.

By now, I was committed to the project. I had chopped, roasted, boiled and sung lustily. There was no going back. I dug through the trash to find the noodle box and read all about how to put this mess together. I then discovered that I was supposed to have tin foil with which to swaddle my lasagna and there was none of that to be found anywhere. But, as I said, it was too late for that. You can't look back once you've boiled all your noodles. I tossed a silicone liner over the whole mess and heaved it in the oven. Since I was going to be reheating it most of the week anyway, I figured I could cook it for a shorter period and perhaps limit the burning of my cheeses.

That didn't exactly work out. There was some cheese darkening. But not so much that I cared. As it turns out...

I actually can make a lasagna. Who knew?

I also had some edge drying, but that part got softer after it sat in the fridge under plastic. All in all, I succeeded in making the lasagna that I decided I should make again for the first time. I have no idea how I ever got the idea that I'd made this before. I know that I've eaten it. And I suppose I've seen it made. But how do you forget that you haven't done something? How do you lose a memory that never existed?

I think I may be channeling my inner Italian. I have been thinking about doing it again with some nice, fresh pasta. I used to make pasta. I think. I have a pasta machine. One would assume I've made pasta since I have the machine. I even have a clear memory of piling up the flour on the counter and making that little "well" in the center to put the egg, oil and water. I swear to you I've done this before.

I think...

SA