Lasanga night was a such a blast!
I haven’t had that much fun in a while.
This is also my 420th blog entry, folks!
History has been made. So spark up and read on.
My goal for 2012 was to make a list of all the everyday, traditional meals that I’ve never made before…
…And then make them all.
So, here we go again!
Taco Belly (named after her favorite fast food) and I had a whirlwind night of drinking wine, making homemade Caesar salad dressing (I will give $100 to the first person who can honestly spell Caesar right on the first try!!!) watching Top Chef and the world’s best new show, Revenge, participating in a zany Home and Garden photo shoot and MAKING THE WORLD’S BEST LASAGNA.
Yeah, I know. Bold claim.
Let me preface this with this: we didn’t mess around with any spinach or vegetable bullshit.
This is meat, cheese, noodles.
Pretty hard to screw up.
I made the sauce the night before. You HAVE to do this. No other way around making a good sauce. This is the one food that’s always better the next day.
Mariah Carey summed it up best with her first hit single, “Sauce Takes Time”. Actually, I believe it may have been “Love” but any dummy knows she was referring to the perfect sauce. Stop arguing with me!
My bolognese (with a combo of Italian sausage and beef) simmered and cooked down and became a blood red pool of deliciousness over the course of about five hours.
I also tried making croutons out of fresh bread, thinking that having the loaf sit out for a few hours meant it was stale.
Don’t make my mistake. It’s a pointless endeavor, yielding oddly chewy chunks of disappointment.
Cut to the Next Day:
We soaked the lasagna noodles in hot water for about 30 minutes while we made our simple and delicious Caesar dressing. Anchovy paste really did the trick. As did the worstershirserwearweawerasdfasdfasd sauce.
I refuse to learn how to spell that correctly, I outright refuse.
I cut up a bunch of fresh parsley (oops, I lied. There’s your vegetable, b*tches) and mixed it with some ricotto cheese and an egg and just layered the noodles, meat sauce, ricotto and some shredded parmesan and sliced, fresh water mozarella.
Basically repeat this process until the dish is so jam packed with amazingness that you just can’t take it anymore.
Repeat until the final layer touches the ceiling.
Like a lost chapter from a Shel Silverstein book.
We both commented that there wasn’t a single change we would have made to this piping hot perfection.
Except maybe waiting a touch longer to eat it.
Taco Belly has a really beautiful apartment but the only shots that turned out well were of a few odd furnishings, including her weird multi-face sculpture thingy.