What I’m reading: The Rachel Incident by Caroline O’Donoghue. I really enjoyed this, and heavily related to some parts of it (largely because the majority takes place in Cork city - between UCC (where I did my Masters) and Shandon (where I lived, in a ramshackle house that is disconcertingly similar to where the protagonists in this book live)). It’s funny and poignant and chaotic, depicts love and friendship beautifully and describes the aftermath of the Celtic Tiger in Ireland particularly well.
What I’m listening to: Samin Nosrat on the New York Times Modern Love podcast. Nosrat speaks as eloquently as she writes, and this episode is no exception.
What I’m eating: ANOTHER pie - this time chicken, from Muzza’s Pies (below) in Mount Albert.
I’ve often heard people discussing their “death row meals”, although I find this slightly morbid, and I’m not sure how much of an appetite I personally would have awaiting execution. I prefer the premise on Ed Gamble and James Acaster’s podcast, Off Menu, where they ask their guests to describe their dream meal (starter, main course, dessert, side dish and drink) - or perhaps something like Desert Island Discs, where you’re asked to anticipate being shipped off to a dessert island.
While I was travelling in Mexico, I was fortunate enough to meet two angels from heaven (less dramatically, from Dublin and Northampton) called Beth and Sophie, who adopted me for a month, during which time we travelled south through Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua. One of our favourite ways to pass time, especially on long buses, was to ask new friends to describe their dream dinner menu. I am endlessly curious about people’s responses to this question, because the answers are inevitably emotional - the menu usually comes accompanied by sentimental anecdotes about loved ones and romantic portrayals of favourite places. I personally like to imagine my dream meal taking place in Oliver’s pub in Cleggan, in the West of Ireland (or more specifically, on the deck out the back) - not because of the outstanding quality of the food there (although they do an excellent chowder), but because of the memories and people I associate with it.
One extraordinarily American man had the most wonderful response to this question (I don’t even think I witnessed this in person, but I’ve heard Beth’s imitation of it so many times that I feel as if I did). He answered, loudly and without an ounce of hesitation (please read this in your best Southern accent): “full rack of baby back ribs, side of mac and cheese. For dessert, a chocolate fudge sundae - all washed down with an ice-cold beer”. I’m not sure if he had thought about this deeply beforehand, or if his answer came so quickly because the menu was so deeply entrenched in his identity - but both are pretty great, when you think about it.
Another new friend, Matt (from Birmingham) simply wanted baked beans on toast. I’m sure he came up with more (a starter, side and dessert) under duress, but that was exactly what he wanted in that moment - probably helped by the fact that we were in San José del Pacífico, a remote village in the Mexican mountains, and therefore many miles away from the nearest tin of Heinz.
My dream meal changes according to my mood. For starter, I usually want seafood: a big bowl of mussels (specifically from a pub in Connemara), or perhaps oysters (preferably from Le Baron Rouge on a Sunday in Paris). For dessert, I usually want something pretty simple and comforting (this especially applies if we’re going with the “death row” premise). Sometimes it’s my mum’s apple crumble with vanilla ice-cream, but more often than not, it is something warm and chocolate-heavy. I love the Ballymaloe recipe for chocolate fudge pudding - the type that separates into two layers as it bakes, with a light moussey part on top and a pool of rich chocolate sauce underneath. Speaking of pudding - sticky toffee pudding often elbows its way in here. Drinks wise, I’ll most likely want a whiskey cocktail (sour or old-fashioned) to start, before transitioning into several perfectly poured pints of Guinness.
My choice of main, though, always stays the same: I always come back to lasagne. The details have gone through various iterations over the years, but it’s always based around a good classic lasagne. I think at one point, the lasagne was being served on a bed of chips (as in, Irish chipper chips - I must have been feeling particularly patriotic that day), and another day, there was definitely garlic bread involved. Always lasagne, though. I’ve tried to discern why lasagne is so comforting to me - and I’ve come up with three main reasons:
The layers. I love layers! I’ve kind of made a career of layers (as in, laminating layers of butter into dough to make viennoiserie), and I love eating things with layers in them. Potato gratin! Tiramisu! A stack of pancakes! I can’t get enough.
The two best lasagnes I’ve had aren’t from restaurants, but made by my mum and my friend Sophie’s mum, Gina. I grew up eating it on a semi-regular basis, both at home and in other people’s homes, so it always reminds me of family dinners
Cheese. I don’t really have to elaborate on this one, do I? All I’m going to say is that lasagne might be one of the ultimate expressions of cheese: ideally I’d like some sort of soft cheese included in every layer of béchamel (mozzarella or ricotta perhaps), something robust on top before baking (parmesan works, of course, but I wouldn’t turn away a nice bit of sharp cheddar), and finally a flurry of parmesan or pecorino on top.
Lasagne is, like most food, deeply personal; my utopian lasagne might not be the same as yours, and that’s OKAY. I personally want a rich bolognaise-type sauce (primarily beef, but I’ll usually get some pork in there, either pancetta or if I can get lovely sausages, I’ll squeeze them out of the casing and fry them off with the beef mince), a heavily seasoned béchamel (nutmeg, bay, cayenne), ricotta, basil, lasagne sheets (duh). In the famous “to cook or not to pre-cook” debate, I will admit that I am torn. I do think that pre-cooking the lasagne sheets before assembling makes a better lasagne - but I also don’t hate the texture of the sheets when you don’t pre-cook them. They hold their shape a bit better, which helps the layers stay intact.
Side-note: if you’re planning on deep-frying slices of lasagne (and I’m not saying you should, but I’m also not saying that you shouldn’t), you should absolutely not pre-cook the lasagne sheets first. I would say that same goes for “lasagne topper”, which I only learned about last week, and is apparently a NZ phenomenon where lasagne slices are panéd (breadcrumbed) and fried. It sounds rather delightful, and I will be seeking one out soon.
Ideally, I want my lasagne served with a large green salad (for fibre) and some sort of garlic bread situation (to counteract any benefits brought by the salad). I’ve also gone one step further this time and made some crispy garlicky breadcrumbs, which I served on top of the lasagne, along with a generous heap of parmesan.
I’ve written my lasagne recipe for you below, but please be aware that it is very much a guide. I certainly don’t make it exactly this way every time, so don’t get too caught up in the measurements. I think that the most important thing to remember is that if you make each individual component as delicious and perfectly seasoned as you can, and layer responsibly, you are certain to end up with a delicious lasagne.
If you’re vegetarian, I’ve made Ottolenghi’s spicy mushroom lasagne several times, and I love it. If you can’t eat gluten, I reckon you could make some shrewd substitutions (gluten free flour in the bechy and gluten free lasagne sheets) and come up with a decent result. If you’re vegan or can’t eat dairy - unfortunately, I can’t really help you here, as the cheese is such a crucial part, and I don’t know enough about the dairy-free cheese alternatives out there.
recipe: lasagne (with garlic-fried breadcrumbs)
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