Courage, Presence of Mind, and Grandma's Lasagna

One of my favorite memories from childhood is driving to Chicago after the Christmas holiday every year to visit my Grandma and my mom's siblings. There were always more presents and even better, Grandma's cooking. Her fudge and her chocolate chip cookies, cliche though it is, were THE BEST.

But the thing I hungered for, the thing I fantasized about for months at a time, was her meat lasagna. I remember none of us kids could ever seem to get enough of it. By the time I graduated from college, the tradition of going to Grandma's had changed for me-I was living here in Chicago and would often be home in MN during that time, and my own parents and siblings were no longer too keen on going for various reasons.

Also, after Grandpa died, the gatherings themselves stopped happening, or were transferred to an aunt's house or something. I lost track, myself. But I had determined by this point, to get the recipe myself anyway. However, everytime I was around Grandma, I forgot to ask. Years went by and I kept forgetting. Until this past year, when she herself began to talk of death as though he were a welcome friend, I finally got around to asking. Morbid, I know, but it is what it is....

And so my Grandma, vibrant but slightly slower than she used to be, walked over to the cupboard and reached up and brought down a box. She pulled out the recipe and gave it to me to copy, but she was in a hurry to get somewhere and so stood over me as I copied it out. I wrote fast. And I interpreted, for the writing of the recipe was not as straight-forward as it could have been. No worries, I thought, I will figure it out later. I am a smart person. Plus Grandma is hurried and therefore I am hurried.

Finally last night I decided to put the recipe to the test.

I had acquired some gluten free lasagna noodles a couple weeks before but needed more ingredients. Since the local grocery by my house did not have affordable swiss cheese I decided to walk to the nearest Jewel over a mile away. No worries, it was nice out. Though I was nearing the end of my fasting day, I figured I would have the ability to accomplish my goals with reasonable clarity. Empty stomach, be damned.

And so I walked. I had the recipe card in my bag. I arrived at the store and the plethora of food immediately overwhelmed me. It was 5:00 pm and my last meal or drink was of course around 6am in the morning. I was very thirsty. Distractingly so. I wandered around for a bit in a haze and decided to start with sauce first. On my list it said: 18oz Tomato sauce and 1 can of tomatoes. I realized immediately what my mistake was. Because she was in a hurry and because she is my Grandma, I did not clarify with her what this meant. Did she mean spaghetti sauce (what my dad uses for his spinach lasagna) or ACTUAL tomato sauce? And what kind of tomatoes? Diced? Stewed? And what size? Turns out there are NO 18 oz cans of sauce anywhere in the store. Just 14.5 ounces, and 28 ounces. In both tomato sauce and spaghetti sauce. Being as famished as I was, this knocked me out for about 20 minutes, as I strolled up and down the aisle trying to remember what Grandma had told me.

I had once made the mistake of using tomato sauce instead of spaghetti sauce and it made a huge disappointing difference in my recipe. I did not want to do it again. But alas, I trusted my interpretation of my Grandma's recipe, ie. trusted my Grandma. Never mind that we may not speak the same cooking language. Where my dad would have been certain to clarify-'spaghetti' sauce vs 'tomato' sauce, I assumed Grandma would too. Even though they are two different people, not related by blood or anything.

I finally settled on 1 14.5 ounce diced tomatoes, 1 14.5 ounce can tomato sauce, and 1 8 ounce can of tomato sauce. Then I noticed something curious on my recipe card.

It said to stir until thickened. But stir what? I was to brown the meat. I knew that, with the cloves. But meat does not thicken. Nor does tomato sauce. I shrugged, unable and unwilling to figure it out but by this time so determined that this was going to happen that I marched on.

I grabbed the cheese in hurry, 8 oz of swiss, and a carton of cottage cheese. The carton was a guess too-since there was no size on the recipe card. I said a short prayer at that point, hoping this would at least be edible.

Then I slooped over to the meat counter, where they had pre-packaged meat in 1.5 lb packages and 3 lb packages. I needed 2 pounds. And it was expensive meat too-much more than the $2.19/lb at my local store. I was incapacitated for another 10 minutes as I debated on buying more than I needed at higher prices, or less than I needed at higher prices, OR walking that whole mile again and then some to the local store to get exactly what I needed at the right price (I am unemployed, you know).

I checked the meat counter at Jewel and they only had the $4.49/lb available to package at my choice. WAY too expensive. So I called it a day, and made my purchases and proceeded to walk to the other grocery store. By this time I was mortally thirsty and though I realized it was after 6pm and I could in fact, eat, I wanted to wait to get home and say prayers. It seemed so unceremonious to break down then and there...

After the stop at my local store I finally got home, said a quick prayer, ate a snack and drank some fluids and proceeded to COOK. I was excited. I counted out the 12 noodles I would need to layer the dish, and added 3 more noodles to the pot to boil. I browned the meat. Added the cloves and the tomatoes-deciding that this is what she meant by 'thickening'. Shredded the cheese. It was starting to smell a little, and not like Grandma's recipe. I knew with a fear, right then and there, I should have stuck with the spaghetti sauce and NOT the tomato sauce.

It was too late for that thought-I just hoped it would taste OK.

As I took out the brown rice noodles and began to layer them in the pan, I realized I has waited to long and the damn noodles were all breaking apart. Still I charged on-beginning my layering process with the meat and the cheese. Reached for the cottage cheese and opened the container and there were dark green spots in the cheese. 'Is this rotten?' I wondered. No-it was not rotten. It was cottage cheese with CHIVES in it. First of all, gross! Second of all, I can't believe I grabbed the wrong kind. I was halfway through this whole experience and I knew that chives would destroy the already failing lasagna beyond eating capacity.

So I threw on my shoes and literally ran 4 blocks BACK to the store and got another 'carton' of cheese and RAN back to my kitchen, where the rest of the noodles had already begun to stick. Then to my surprise, I ran out of noodles. My beautifully layered lasagna could only be partially layered. How does this happen? Can I not count? Wait, don't answer that. I finished the recipe best I could and popped it in the oven and prayed again that it would turn out. It was actually edible so I can't complain but I am glad I wasn't having anyone over.

The funny thing is you'd think I was very cranky in all this, but really it was more like I was in my own special comedy of errors. Although I was not laughing out loud, I was laughing in my heart.

On the Fast

It's the fourth day of the Fast and my prayers are ardent. Familiarity couples with newness to create a brand new Fast for me-one with more time for personal reflection and for waging new battles.

I hope by the end of this one the strength I search for has found me. I also wonder what to wear to the Naw-Ruz party?

On Lost

For the last, what is it, five years(?), I have been told numerous times that I would LOOOOOVE the show Lost. I have listened to thrilled peers as they ponder and worry and wait with anticipation for new episodes. I'll admit, I was intrigued. And given the slightly (or greatly) supernatural nature of the show, I assumed what friends have about me, which is that I would love the show.

So finally a few months ago I began the Netflix journey. And here, a mere season and a half later, I am officially giving up. Well-acted? Why yes. Interesting? Why yes. Well-written? Well....while I think the plot lines are intriguing enough, maybe too much so, I absolutely hate the character development. It's a personal taste thing for me. I discovered a long time ago that I don't particularly enjoy watching people be bad. It doesn't not float my boat to watch deliciously evil people accidentally blowing heads off of young men sitting in the back seat of a car, nor does it ever make me happy when the bad guys win.

So when you take Lost, where bad is good is bad turns bad-it just frustrates and irritates me.

For example, when you begin to imply that a group of people who would steal children and hang people from trees are possibly 'good' or redeemable, or you have a terribly immature and bitter father to kill two innocent people and serve 5 others up for slaughter all in the name of saving his son then you have completely lost me.

The reason why I have always loved science fiction and fantasy is because it always presented interesting opportunities to test the true capacity or capability of man to overcome his base/animal nature to grow in his virtues, the things that make him or her essentially human and different. In other words, I like when you take an unbelievable situation and create a character who was believable, and experiement with how that character then reacts to that situation.

But what you have with this show is a bunch of people who to me, are not believeable.

For example, an African-American woman who would be a part of a group that would kidnap a child and torture a father for no reason other than they can and it's interesting is...unbelievable. Call me naive on that one-but so many things are unbelievable in the natures of the characters in this story. I could go through and list a bunch but it would take too long. I understand they are trying to build some of that unbelievability into the 'lore' of the island, that perhaps the 'island' brought this mix of truly effed-up individuals, killers, addicts, dishonest and pathetically victimized individuals together, for a reason. But to me I would much rather watch a bunch of folks mired in depravity IMPROVE their character rather than fall deeper into it while people keep dying left and right.


And that is just me and my taste. I like to watch things that make me feel good, things that horrify me without redemption. Other people are different. That's cool. There is a small chance that I could watch through all 7(?) seasons and find that redemption, but I don't want to, because if it is not there, I will be even more frustrated.