The Original Lasagna

No, this is not an old family recipe that dates back for generations.  It was not discovered in an ancient Italian kitchen or stolen straight from Garfield’s dreams.  Much to the contrary.  This was the first lasagna ever made by a girl who didn’t care for lasagna but who cared for a boy that did.

It was the fall of 2007.  Said boy had just moved to Blacksburg, Virginia to pursue his dreams and said girl was settling into a home with several lady friends.  He was coming back to visit for a weekend and she wanted to make him his favorite dish.  The only problem was she didn’t like his favorite dish… or so she thought.

Okay, busted.  Said girl was me.  For years, I had convinced myself I hated lasagna because I hated the texture of ricotta (really, does anyone like the texture of ricotta?).  I had also yet to discover the joys of high calorie cooking, so lasagna was hardly my cup of tea.  I preferred salmon, brown rice and asparagus baked in my dear roommate’s cake pans.

I would say busted again, except that said roommate Emily has known for years that I used to bake fish in her cake pans.  And eat her peanut butter when I came home drunk. Anyways, back to the story.  I was determined to make him his favorite meal, which at this point he was still convinced could only be made by his mother… and Olive Garden.  So I browsed until I found a recipe that met my picky palette: A “Lean Lasagna” from Self Magazine that called for spinach to be mixed into the ricotta… a trick I hoped would mask the texture (it does).  Of course I had to eliminate the mushrooms, since this was before Said Boy had learned to eat around them, which was shortly after Said Girl said, “Eat around them or don’t eat.  Or better yet, put them on my plate.”

But there was still one problem.  At the time I had no idea how to go about making lasagna, even with a recipe.  Luckily despite my aforementioned vices, my lovely roomie was by my side to help.  We debated whether to break the turkey up first or cook it in one big chunk (turns out it doesn’t matter).  It was she who suggested that you must spoon tomato sauce on the bottom of the pan and who pointed out that if you actually follow Self’s decidedly mediocre directions, you would end up with spinach on top of your noodles.  That certainly would never do.

After some time in the kitchen, we ended up with a product I was proud to serve Said Boy.  Despite its healthy nature and the presence of something green, he approved.  Which is surprising considering at the time Said Boy thought that anything under the “Vegetable n’ Sides” section of the Cracker Barrel’s menu counted as a vegetable.  Really.  He once called me to brag he had eaten three vegetables with supper: mac and cheese, baked beans and green beans.  Yet he declared my lasagna second only to his Mama’s, and I declared that perhaps I liked lasagna after all.

For a while, I made this lasagna often.  It became my go-to dish when cooking for a crowd.  But over the years, I begin to take it for granted.  Why make something so mundane when the options are endless (and I’ve tried many of them!)?  But this week, we rediscovered the Original Lasagna and rekindled an old flame.

You know the best part about lasagna?  When you make it for two you get to eat it all.week.long.

Turkey and Spinach Lasagna 

From Self

• Cooking spray
• 1 small yellow onion, chopped
• 1 pound ground turkey breast
• 3 cups tomato sauce
• 3 tablespoons Italian seasoning (or 1 tsp each dried basil, parsley, and oregano)
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• teaspoon garlic powder
• 6 cups chopped fresh spinach
• 2 cups fat-free ricotta
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1 package whole-wheat lasagna noodles (about 8 oz, or 9 noodles)
• 2 cups shredded part-skim mozzarella

Johanna