Today, I made a lasagna for friends for a party.
As I built in silence this afternoon, layering all the many elements, using my hands with the ingredients, trying to remember what goes when and where, it was sort of meditative. My fingers were covered in bechamel sauce. As things progressed, I was aware of my insecurity about the final product.
I noticed how intuitive lasagnas are—you never know how they will turn out, really. No matter how closely you follow the recipe, it’s always an unknown. My lasagnas never turn out as I expect them to; but yet, people like them. Maybe there’s a lesson there, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just that pasta, butter, cream, cheese and sauces are delicious no matter what. Maybe it’s about the creating.
The perfect lasagna still eludes me, but I enjoy the building. And the people eating it.
I hope you had a nice Saturday.
Once introduced to deconstructed lasagna, I've never made another old school layered lasagna.
It oughta be one word: Lasagnameditation, a cognate of Vipassana