Lasagna: The Only Starter Course1 ♥
Not pictured: 10 more pounds of sauce and cheese.
Just what kind of hypocrite would I be if I didn’t follow up a post about being a bad cook with a detailed story about my 20-pound lasagna?
In my house lasagna is the Thanksgiving starter course. It comes after a trough of beautifully arranged antipasti and before the mains. Yes, I said mains.
Part of the fun of the lasagna, aside from watching my mom nearly drop the thing pulling it out of the oven and seeing my dog get all too excited that it might just happen this time, is what comes after it’s served. There are always groans from newbies who don’t know how to pace, and cocky smiles from those that resisted the second helping. Then we all make nice and go on a walk. The walk’s exactly 5 minutes long and the purpose of it has yet to be determined. I guess we do it in hopes that the brick of lasagna will jiggle its way down into some hiding spot in our stomachs for the remainder of the night so that we can help ourselves to turkey and the 10 desserts awaiting us.
This year I’m making the lasagna at my Friensgiving. I’ve abandoned hope that it’ll be remotely as good as my mom’s because she makes her own cheese and has an intimate relationship with each noodle she places into her pan. (Geeze I said pan. It’s not a pan. She uses a turkey roaster for it.) I just want people to eat so much that they have to go on a walk. Or at the very least unbutton their pants.