lasagne of the gods

 

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This is where it all begins.

 

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Leftovers.

 

 

Last night’s cabbage soup.

 

 

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Remember all that tomatoey goodness? That rich, unctuous sauce?

 

 

Well, that’s where we begin.

 

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There, and also farther back. Back with an itch for lasagne, for something rich and gooey and thick and layered and authentic, something that tastes like a home you never had, one you’ve somehow forgotten how to get back to. Home and mother and comfort and goodness.

 

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Without the gritty taste of ricotta. Without the chewy blandness of mozzarella.

 

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With beschamel sauce instead.

 

 

With butter, and flour, and milk.

 

 

With garlic and salt and pepper.

 

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That’s what I’m talking about.

 

 

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Now for some freshly ground nutmeg.

 

 

 

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Pure heaven. If you nursed from angels, this is what comes out.

 

 

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Once you make the beschamel sauce, you just spread a layer of it into your baking dish.

 

 

Don’t be shy with it.

 

 

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Look, I am not a madman.

 

You don’t have to make your pasta fresh. You can use some Barilla no boil lasagna sheets.

 

Perfectly legitimate.

 

 

We’re here to fucking eat, man, not to die making shit. Put them dry noodles on there. It’s gonna be perfectly fine.

 

Trust me.

 

 

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This is where it gets weird, man.

 

 

This is where you just cross the fucking line and don’t look back.

 

Have the courage of your convictions, like Julia says.

 

 

Take that leftover cabbage soup from yesterday and just spread it all over them noodles. Go ahead. Slather that shit. Get it on.

 

It’s gonna be okay.

 

 

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Now get that beschamel going. Layer that goodness on there.

 

You making something now, ain’t you?

 

Hell yes, you are.

 

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Add you a layer of shredded parmigiano.

 

Add more noodles.

 

Add more cabbage soup.

 

Add more beschamel.

 

Add more cheese.

 

 

Keep going.

 

 

Keep going.

 

 

When you run out of room, stop.

 

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Now, put it in your preheated 400 degree oven for forty-five minutes.

 

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Go have a couple of glasses of wine and some goddamn cheese and olives.

 

Go make out with your spouse.

 

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when the whole house is redolent with the crazy-making scent of it, drag it out of the oven and let it rest for ten minutes before you attack it.

 

bring reinforcements.

 

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Look the fuck out.

 

 

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Probably someone has made lasagne with leftover cabbage soup before me.

 

 

But I feel like a goddamn wizard of food for doing it, is what.

 

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This was goddamn astounding.

 

 

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Namaste.

 

 

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7 thoughts on “lasagne of the gods

  1. This is just FUN! You make it fucking fun 🙂
    Loooove the picture of the pepper and the nutmeg swirling in the pot
    and the one with the blop of sauce on the counter.
    It’s almost as sensual of an experience to look at the pictures and read what you write
    as it would be to eat that final mesmerizingly beautiful ocean of yumness…………………..
    almost.

  2. well, thank you very much, livia.

    it is a messy place around here, but we have us some fun.

    that is the whole point of it, isn’t it?

    yrs-

    scott

  3. Ms. Moon says:

    Damn. I am gaining weight just reading this blog.
    That must have been the food of the gods. You are right. If you nursed and angel, that’s what would come out.
    Holy SHIT! Really. Holy.

  4. Anne says:

    And now use black cabbage (cavolo nero) for your soup/sauce and come back to tell us about it.

  5. Anne says:

    Yeah, even my figure-obsessed stepdaughter had three helpings – all I now need to do is convince the smaller kids (7 and 4).

    Will be going out for a birthday lunch with a nice 70-year-old called Scott who doesn’t cook. Maybe I could direct him to your blog as a sort of alter ego and inspiration?

    cheers
    a

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