Lasagne

Here we go; another article, the title of which was suggested to me by somebody in a pub. In this case a girl called Kerry. At least I thought she was called Kerry and was therefore naturally cautious. I’ve had bad experiences at the hands of such women! It turns out however that she is, in fact a mere 'Ceri'. I’ve only known one other Ceri in my time and she was a heftily bosomed blonde who served on in my college bar and had an amazing and amusing inability to pull a decent pint. One thing though that Ceris have in common with their more usually spelled sisters is the tendency to be mad as stoats, so all in all I was rather relieved when lasagne popped out of her mouth in answer to my request.

I think that could have been worded a little better. Never the less I leapt on this solitary globule of literary spittle with some delight. Lasagne is something I feel I can write about with some confidence. It encompasses many of my favourite things, namely meat, cheese and criticising foreigners

I love lasagne. I find it about the only agreeable form of pasta. Let’s face it, apart from the jewel that is pizza (and that was refined for us by the Americans), Italian cuisine consists of nothing more than a variety of shapes of pasta covered in a number of different sauces. Nothing that impressive and frankly they’re kidding themselves if they think we haven’t noticed. So lasagne stands out!

I can’t remember ever ordering lasagne when dining out. It’s not that kind of dish. A staple of pubs and crappy cafés, this version of the dish is to cuisine what Office Gossip was to classic BBC sit-coms. Lasagne should either be made yourself or, preferably, bought in frozen blocks and blasted to fuck in the microwave. This is because it’s as a convenience food that lasagne comes into its own.

Let us dissect the lasagne:

Meaty Sauce

I don’t know what it is – a bit like bolognaise – but it’s generally yumsome and contains mince, big lumps of it if you’re lucky. You can get the occasional mushroom which I frown upon. Any former student will tell you that mushrooms are only ever put into food as padding. Mostly it’s lovely and meaty and tomatoey and, if you’re fortunate (or if I’m making it), just a little bit spicy.

White Sauce

What’s it called? Bechmael or some such? (My word processor favours béchamel but it’s been known to lie.) It’s generally more subtle in flavour and should be present in buckets! Lasagne without it is too unfulfilling. It’s like the silky-smooth foreplay before the hot, meaty sex... Sorry, I’m not sure where that came from. It won’t happen again.

Cheese

You get some of this in the sauce if you’re doubly blessed but mainly it’s on top of your lasagne. Again, abundance is the key. Lots of stringy, baked cheese to chew through. (Good job I curtailed my sex analogy.)

While I’m on the subject of cheese, can I get something off my chest? What the fuck is it with people who put fruit into cheese! It has no place being there. It’s a few years ago now since, at a party, I was asked if I fancied some stilton. I was thrilled at the offer until I saw that some blithering twat had unfeasibly removed every trace of lovely copper-tainted mould and replaced it, inexplicably, with apricot. Bastard! Since that day I’ve seen wensleydale ruined by apple, double gloucester crippled with date and good, honest Lancashire molested and violated by cranberry of all ridiculous things!

Now you may say that these abominations exist because there is a market for them - quite right. Yet, have no doubt that the poor misguided folk that make up this market would, in a sane, compassionate society, be locked away for their own good. I pride myself on being liberal in my attitude to most things and remain a staunch opponent of the death penalty. If people want to eat cheese and fruit at the same time they should be free to do so (albeit in the privacy of their own homes lest they incite rioting), yet any manufacturer who actually combines the two products should, humanely, be dragged out into the street and shot!

I think I’ve strayed from the point a little. Let me finish by saying that, in my humble opinion, the best microwave lasagne available is Tesco’s 5 for £4 basic frozen block and if they want to send me a huge batch for so shamelessly plugging it I'll be most thrilled.

Oh yeah, there’s probably cannelloni too!