Devonne Brown

The best recipes come from old cookbooks. Those suckers have been tested and perfected. They have the right ingredients, lots of love, and you would have to hold your mouth just right to mess them up.

Mom’s Lasagna recipe traveled to England and back with me. It is faithful. I remember when I spilled the sauce all over the cooktop and onto the floor in the kitchen in Portsmouth. A couple tablespoons more or less, of red sauce on the floor from the pot looks like a surgical disaster, not to mention culinary catastrophe. I was pretty annoyed at the time and it seemed serious. Pasta sauce can do that to a person. I’m not even Italian, but the special Elwanda Lasagna, a million miles from home, represents. 

I’ve been told my lasagna has drifted from the original recipe. I’m sure it has. I blame everything on the boys. Feeding two sprogs at the same time made me double recipes for everything.  That meant doing math in my head, multiplying fractions. When I was in England, I went metric, then I converted back to cups and saucers when I came back home. My eyes still cross when I think of making scones.

I’ve tried to keep the lasagna consistent. So, I got out the original recipe and started multiplying. First by two. Sometimes by three. Don’t double the eggs or noodles. No, the original recipe did not call for wine or vodka, but it’s very good if you add one or the other, but not both at the same time. 

Ok, so I’ve polluted the original recipe. I’ve added more basil, less oregano, and poured two ounces of red wine into the sauce. I cook it down a good bit, though. I still add the parm and the cottage cheese, just like mom did.  Mom always forgot something crucial in the preparation of the dish. The last time I made lasagna, I forgot to add the middle layer of noodles and had to do some fancy spooning to rectify the problem.  It all looked golden and gooey in the end, and nobody went away sad.

Mom’s Lasagna, even if it’s drifted from the original words a tad, will make. you smile.