Shortcut through Noodle Alley to Lasagna City

Patty's back, this time with a tale of culinary experimentation that threatens to revolutionize the preparation of one of Italy's most beloved of dishes: Lasagna.

A couple of years ago I decided to make cannelloni for 60 people. Since these tasty little suckers can be on the small side I decided to have three for each guest. This entailed cooking 180 pieces of dry lasagna noodles and then wrapping them up with a chicken, ricotta and spinach mixture then baking them with sauce. After preparing this for umpteen hours and serving it, I realized I could have made more money an hour volunteering at a soup kitchen.  The experience was so traumatizing I vowed never to cook a lasagna noodle again. Only problem was I had three boxes of this personal kryptonite left.

As time went by the lasagna noodles were pushed further and further away. When we recently moved they were packed by my wife (Anita) and were set in plain view in our new kitchen. I started planting the seed to Anita that we could make lasagna if she cooked the noodles and I would make the meat sauce. Although her decision to marry me could be considered flawed she wasn’t falling for this devious proposal. Then it occurred to me: Don’t pre-cook the noodles.

The decision was made and there was no turning back.  I mentioned it to a French chef friend of mine and we joked about the fact I’d be breaking my teeth on this crunchy cookie of lasagna. Deep down though I believed there was method to my madness. So I cooked a meat sauce for about ten minutes and heaped some of this in a ten inch pan. Then I started with a layer of dry uncooked lasagna and repeated another layer of sauce but this time with béchamel and mozzarella cheese. I made three layers of this and put foil over the pan and let cook for a half an hour. I took the foil off and added more cheese and baked it for ten more minutes. I then cut it in four and put one on the top of the other to make two. Voila!

When I had my first bite I looked at Anita and we both had huge shit eating grins on our face. Not only had it worked, it was the best damn lasagna we’d ever had. By cooking noodles in the sauce, the sauce had been incorporated into the noodle leaving every bite as good as the last. I apologize to the lasagna noodle. I ended up hating you because I didn’t understand you. I’ll tell you this much though, I’ll never make cannelloni again.