My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna

During my recent visit Back East to, among other things, attend my brother‘s wedding, I also stumbled upon a serendipitous epiphany of gourmet delectability.

Huh?

Big words (just showing off) that merely mean: My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna!

One Mean Vegetable Lasagna, that is.

I grew up in a half-Italian household, by that I mean an Italian household. If you know Italians, then you understand that they have a tendency to dominate a room…or a home. Gastronomically speaking, this is a good thing! The funny thing is, my mom is not the Italian in the family, she’s French. But by marrying an Italian man, she was bound by Sicilian and old Francis Ford Coppola Films tradition to learn, from a genuine Nana, how to make a
tomato sauce from scratch. And also how to please the garlic- and olive oil-loving palate of a gentleman with a vowel at the end of this last name. The good news: she more than passed the test; she excelled.

Have I mentioned: My Mom Makes One Mean Lasagna!

So, when I informed my mother that I would be taking that big (not that big, actually) jumbo jet in the sky back to her neck of the woods to be among family and friends to celebrate her youngest child’s nuptials, she naturally asked if she could cook something special for me. And I naturally requested her World Famous Lasagna…but with one catch.

Mike: Can you make me a vegetable lasagna?
Mom: Oh…I’ve never made one of those.
Mike: I know, that’s why I’m asking you. No meatballs.
Mom: Oh…you used to love my meatballs.
Mike: Yes, Ma, I did, but I’m a vegetarian now. Remember?
Mom: Oh…right. You can’t eat meatballs?
Mike: No meat, Ma. None. So, can you make a meatless lasagna?
Mom: Oh…I suppose. What kind of vegetables do you want?
Mike: Anything, surprise me.
Mom: Oh…
Mike: And no pork fat, please, in the sauce.
Mom: Oh…dear…what?
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…but I always use pork fat.
Mike: Yes, I know. Can you use something else?
Mom: Oh…I suppose…
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…
Mike: Mom?
Mom: Oh…

On and on it went until we agreed that olive oil would be a healthy and tasty alternative to the pork fat my mother usually adds to the saucepan in which to sauté the onions and garlic and whatever else she uses to start her World Famous Tomato Sauce.

During the weeks and days leading up to my trip Back East, my mother would call often, grilling me on my vegetable preferences.

Mike: Hello?
Mom: Michael, do you like mushrooms?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: For the lasagna.
Mike: Oh. Yeah, sure, love ‘em.
Mom: How about your brother?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Do you think he’s allergic to them?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Or his fiancée?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: How about eggplant?
Mike: Huh?
Mom: Cauliflower?
Mike: …

After numerous calls and some serious consideration of adding my mother’s phone number to my “no-call” list, we settled on what will from this point on be known as “The Masterpiece.”

I landed in my old state on a Monday and sat down to a small gathering of family and friends at mom’s house on a Tuesday. My salivary glands the only part of my body not suffering from jet lag, I watched with utter amazement as my tiny mother removed from the oven a tray of vegetable lasagna, slightly larger than some of the carry-on luggage I saw my fellow air passengers unsuccessfully trying to cram into the overhead bin.

Heaped upon a plate before me was a wedge of lasagna, roughly the size of my head while wearing a large hat. I dug in. It melted in my mouth. The veggies were cooked just right; not too crunchy or too limp. And the tomato sauce was the best ever: savory and vibrant. Without the overpowering (sorry meat-eaters) presence of the meatballs and pork fat, I could taste more of the tomato and garlic, which also brought out the succulent olio of flavor from the broccoli, mushrooms, cauliflower, and eggplant.


It was delicious!

It was “The Masterpiece.”

When I stated that my mom made one mean lasagna, I wasn’t kidding. Now I can emphatically add that:

My Mom Makes One Mean Vegetable Lasagna!

The moral of this story: For a healthier, tastier life, go veggie and hold the meatballs.

Until next time…

peace,

Mike