Conclusion of the Lasagna Sagna... er, Saga

Time for the exciting conclusion to the Adventures of Lasagna Making. You’ll recall we left Terrie hunting her neighborhood’s corner stores for lasagna noodles. She regretfully decided to postpone the assembly to the next day. Let’s pick up our story there, in her own words…

Two slow-cookers full of sauce is a lot.

But wait. What would I do with those two crock pots of sauce overnight? Too large for the fridge, I couldn’t risk leaving them at room temperature that long. Out on the deck? They’d attract every cat, squirrel, and skunk for miles. And then they’d freeze. The garage? I didn’t want my sauce tasting like fuel. I simply had to finish the assembling of the three lasagna pans and get them in the freezer.

I ventured out on another walk, this time to Red Apple. I spied several boxes of lasagna noodles on their shelves. Alas, they were all the “oven ready” kind. Not what I wanted. I continued down the sidewalk to Shopper’s where an apologetic sign told me the front doors were closed and I needed to go around back. What if I walked all the way around the block only to discover they didn’t have my noodles? I’d come this far, I may as well keep going to Portage Supermarket. I could see their overhang just ahead.

When I reached the overhang, I realized it belonged to a lawyer’s office. By now, however, the supermarket really was within sight. I went in, purchased my noodles, and walked the eight blocks home. I filled my big stock pot with hot tap water and put it on the stove to heat. While I waited, I recalculated the mozzarella cheese. I pulled up Google to convert to metric again. Woops. I only had half enough cheese! I could have easily grabbed another block while buying noodles! Should I skimp on cheese and serve my family the World’s Fourth-Best Lasagna? No. It could wait another day. I turned off the burner. I squeezed the crock pots into the fridge overnight.

Early the next morning, I drove to my regular store for the additional cheese. Since I was there, I checked out their foil pans. Hey! Deep dish lasagna pans. Those would work so much better than cake pans. I bought three. The cost of my lasagnas now reached over a hundred dollars, but it would be worth it.

Assembly went smoothly, except for having WAY more sauce than I figured I should need. The total measurements of all the called-for liquids did not align with the amount the recipe was telling me to put in each layer. I recalculated everything and couldn’t find any mistakes. Should I use all the sauce and risk runny lasagna? Or go with my gut and risk having it too dry? I did the second thing and froze the extra sauce for another pasta day. Maybe we’d have to settle for the World’s Fifth-Best Lasagna.

Finally found enough noodles.

And cheese.

 

Ready for freezer ... or oven.

Once all three pans were filled and covered, I carefully laid them in the freezer, cleaned the kitchen, and barely gave them a thought until gathering day. By that time, our numbers were reduced to nine people, so we left one pan behind. My son popped the other two in his oven. Ninety minutes later, when it should have been time to remove the foil covering, they were still cold in the middle. Argh! We’d already dressed the Caesar salad. By the time those lasagnas were properly cooked, everybody was too hungry to mind the soggy salad. The lasagna proved a hit, and we filled out tummies from just one pan.

As it turned out, the same crew gathered again two days later and didn’t mind eating the second lasagna. Even if it was two days old and even if it was Christmas Day.

I’ve since bought a kitchen scale that measures in both Imperial and Metric. Lesson learned. Plus, we still have one whole pan in the freezer for another time. Who would dare complain about the World’s Sixth-Best lasagna?

That Time I Attempted the World's Best Lasagna

Our kids and I agreed that lasagna provided the best solution for our gathering at our son’s house two days before Christmas. Most of the work could be done ahead—by me. On party day, it would be a cinch to pop them out of the freezer into his oven. Cleanup would be a breeze compared to a turkey. With one kid providing salad and another dessert, this mama’s job would pretty much be done.

You know where this is going.

I couldn’t simply throw together my ordinary open-a-can-of-pasta-sauce-don’t-measure-anything lasagna. Not when it was our Christmas dinner. And not with our foodie son-in-law around. I Googled “lasagna recipe” and what popped up but “World’s Best Lasagna.” World’s best? What could top that? I skimmed the ingredients. It looked doable and delicious. Three large pans would feed our crew, which meant tripling everything. Of course, the American recipe listed ingredients in pounds and ounces so again, I used Google to convert to metric. I made my shopping list. 

My shopping list(s)

I should have checked it twice.

In addition to two and a quarter pounds of ground beef, I’d need two pounds of bulk Italian sausage. My store had only one pound. The meat clerk advised I’d get the same product if I bought the links, slit the casing, and simply used the sausage inside. I did.

In the cheese department, I grabbed a large block of mozzarella and some Parmesan. The recipe called for ricotta cheese, but when I saw the price, I reached for good old cottage cheese instead. We could settle for the World’s Second-Best Lasagna.

Besides the lasagna noodles already in my pantry, I’d need 24 more. Lucky for me, one of the better brands was on sale for the same price as the store brand. The print on the box was written in Italian, but I saw a large number “24” on the front. What else could that mean but 24 noodles?

You know where this is going.

When I added the price of all my ingredients, it totaled $30 per pan or almost $2.50 a serving, not counting my labor. But hey, it would be worth it for the World’s Second-Best Lasagna. I happily looked forward to the next morning. Lasagna-making day!

Whoa, that's a lotta sauce!

That’s when I realized all that meat and all those cans of tomatoes, tomato sauce, and tomato paste would not fit in my biggest pot. No way. I do own a large stock pot, but I’d need that one for cooking 36 noodles. What to do? If I made the sauce in the stock pot, I’d need to ladle it into something else in order to cook the noodles. Maybe I should cook the noodles first and set them aside. But the sauce was supposed to simmer for an hour and a half. What to do? I ended up browning the meat in my large pot, then dividing everything between two crock pots. It barely fit. Boy, that seemed like an awful lot of sauce. I recalculated everything, confident my measurements were correct according to the recipe. I guess time would tell when I tried to fit everything in the pans.

 

More calculating

Next, the noodles. Uh oh. The box of fancy Italian noodles held only twelve. Why on earth hadn’t I grabbed two? Should I skimp on noodles and settle for the World’s Third-Best Lasagna? Hubby had the car, so I couldn’t just run back to the store. Would our neighborhood corner store carry lasagna noodles? I ventured the three blocks down the sidewalk, doubting they would. I was right. Oh well. It was a nice day and I needed the exercise. I walked the seven blocks to the next nearest store. No lasagna noodles. That settled it. I’d have to leave the assembling of the lasagna for the next day. You probably know where this is going, but I’m out of space. You’ll need to wait for the rest of my lasagna sagna. Er, saga.

To be continued next week.