Homemade lasagna: Seasoned with family memories
Using a family recipe means taking time to enjoy the process.
By Joanne Ciccarello | Assistant Photo Editor of The Christian Science Monitorfrom the January 30, 2008 edition
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The first aroma that would waft into my childhood bedroom on a Sunday morning was the smell of onions and garlic frying. That scent would wake me up. I would hear the sizzle as the onions hit the hot olive oil in the pan; the sputtering sound of the crushed canned tomatoes following suit occurred moments later. In my parents' home, Sunday was macaroni and gravy day (you might call it "pasta" with "sauce"), and holidays offered the hallowed lasagna.
Relatives would stop by after church with a warm loaf of bakery Italian bread to chat for a bit before returning home to their family's version of this classic. Inevitably, when my mother wasn't looking, we'd grab hunks of the warm loaf and dip it into the pot, blow on it, and devour.
On cue, my mother would complain that someone had left bread crumbs in the sauce. It was a kind of joke since my mother indulged as well. We couldn't help it. The richness of the sauce, the sweetness of the tomatoes and meat simmering – who could wait until dinner?
Lasagna was for special occasions. The ricotta always came in a can punched with holes to drain the excess water. The Parmesan or Romano was grated by hand, a task saved for the daughters who were to follow in this art. Even the parsley was fresh.
Today, for special occasions, I make an extra trip to a favorite Italian deli where I buy the ricotta made fresh in Connecticut and delivered twice daily. I buy the grating cheese there as well. My favorite is pepato Romano – Romano cheese dotted with peppercorns.
For many years it was difficult to find scamorza, a tangier, saltier version of mozzarella. To my delight, local supermarkets are carrying it again so I use that as a substitute for the mozzarella when it's available.
These days, busy schedules mean less time to cook but I would never sacrifice the flavor of a homemade meat gravy to a can or jar for convenience. I've tried. Even the best brands tend to have sweeteners, and just about every supermarket tomato sauce includes oregano. Oregano would never make it to the pot of gravy I grew up with.
In my stubborn mind, oregano belongs in pizza sauce.
No two Italians cook their gravy or lasagna alike. So this recipe makes no claim to authenticity. It's simply what I grew up with. When I do find the time or the excuse to make it, I find myself thinking back to a childhood ritual with the attending sensations that make this meal so special. Buon appetito!
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