Monday, October 23, 2023

LASAGNA--VIA ITALY, MINNESOTA AND CHEF G's AMAZING MIND



Hi folks, Chef G. here and, boy oh boy, do I have a recipe for you today?  That was a statement--not a question--so I really should remove the question mark.  I'm in a good mood though, so I'm going to let it stand.

Perhaps you noticed the halo over my head in the photo at the top of this page.  I assure you, however, I am not Jesus.  I'm just a humble, world famous, celebrity chef.  Sure, cooking excellence has helped me achieve a certain degree of holiness, but I'm not sure I deserve a halo.  On the other hand, who am I to argue with the culinary gods?

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Sometimes I wonder if my braggery and boastfulocity schtick is wearing thin.  Sometimes, I think my blog should take on more of an aura of sophistication.  Sometimes I think that if I took this business more seriously, I could get paid billions of dollars instead of the hundreds of millions I currently make.

Then, I come to my senses.  I'm not going to sell my soul to the devil that is conformity.  I must be true to myself.  Cooking and bragging about it on a blog are ARTS, not popularity contests.  I say, "look elsewhere if you want seriousness, sophistication, and fancy recipes." 

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I'll be making lasagna today.  It's a food that is not pronounced the way it's spelled.  Think "la-zahn-ya"--not la-sag-na."  I don't know much more about the Italian language than that.  

This isn't my first foray into Italiano chefery though.  Several of you might remember when I made an extraordinary pizza here on the Chef G. Cooking Channel.  I made my own pizza sauce, mixed my own sausage, tossed my own crust, and cut up my own toppings.  Good times!  I recall making another pasta dish on another occasion, but I can't remember what it was.

Now I'm back to teach you how to make the best lasagna you've ever eaten.  At least, that's how I HOPE my lasagna comes out today.  Read on to see how I did it.

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The deliciousness starts by browning a pound and a half of lean hamburger and 1/2 pound of mild Italian sausage, along with a cup of chopped onion and two cloves of garlic.


  

Then you add a 28-ounce can of petite diced tomatoes (with all the juices), 12-oz. of tomato paste, and, ya know, like, a tablespoon each of salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning.  Cover the pan and simmer for an hour or so. 


While the sauce simmers, whip up this delicious blend of cottage cheese (24-oz.), Parmesan cheese (1/2 cup), Mozzarella cheese (1/2 pound), parsely (2 tbsps), and two whisked eggs.


Of course, you've got to cook up the lasagna noodles too.  Be sure to make them al dente.  (I don't mean to be condescending but, al dente means "not too soft.")


Now it's time to smear butter around a 13" X 9" baking dish.  For added non-stick protection, I like to add a dollop of olive oil.


Here comes the fun part.  Like clothing for cold weather survival, lasagna is all about layering.  In this case the layering begins with scooping out some of that fine red sauce you've been simmering and splattering it onto the bottom of the baking dish.


It almost looks good enough to eat already, but don't do it.


The next layer will be strips of al dente lasagna pasta.


The third layer will involve spreading the 3-cheese mixture over the pasta.


Did you have fun with the layering?  If so, you're in for a treat.  You get to do it again.  Three more layers in the exact same order.

But there's MORE!  Another layer of noodles, topped by another half-pound of delicious Mozzarella cheese.


If it doesn't cause a heart attack, you are going to love this.


Hopefully, you've pre-heated your chef's oven to 375-degrees (F).  Sometimes I get so carried away that I forget to provide instructions in the proper order.  Not to worry--you can do this step now.  When the oven reaches the 375-degree mark, you can watch Chef G.'s instructions on how to put the lasagna into the oven.





After about 45 minutes in the oven, check on your creation.  If the cheese hasn't melted, let it bake a little longer.  If the cheese is melted and golden brown, it's ready to be taken out.  If the cheese has burned into a hideous black, crusty mess, well, that's not good.  That was probably your fault, not mine. 

 

In this case, I've achieved perfection.  True, there is a little blackness on the edges, but that provides a nice bit of crunchiness.  Now all you have to do is cut it up into 3-4" squares, scoop them onto plates, and chow down.


In accordance with the rules of "truth in food blogging," I must reveal I made a smaller batch of lasagna than the recipe indicates.  Mrs. Chef G. is visiting her family in Spokane, WA, so I reduced the recipe by about one-third.  Even so, it was way too much for me to eat by myself.  So, I brought about half of it over to my next-door neighbors, and I still have at least one more meal for myself.

 

 

2 comments:

  1. Dear Chef G, Please do not become some sophisticated influencer - we like your channel just as it is. I like the choice of lasagna-making music but would have to disagree on the drink pairing :-) Shiraz and lasagna, thank you. I am glad to see I'm not the only one to skip the tediousness of making proper bechamel sauce for the lasagna. These days I only make 'traditional' lasagna for Nigel. The cheese layer is just ricotta and parmesan, and he prefers extra sharp cheddar on the top. I am very sneaky. I discovered some time ago that I can mash up a tin of brown lentils and add that to the meat mix... and Nigel never notices. So he gets some extra fibre, protein and good stuff for this guts with the rest. I do miss lasagna... and have not found a gluten and dairy free recipe yet that I thought worth trying. It's the dairy part that is hard to replicate. Thanks Chef G for another gorgeous-looking and tasty recipe. safet travels to The Feeshko. Cheers, Emily

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    1. Putting healthy stuff in lasagna? You really are sneaky, Emily. Mrs. Chef G. is sneaky that way too. Most recently, she added black beans to her brownies. I have to admit, I didn't notice a thing. I like black beans, mind you, but had I known beforehand about such a thing being in a brownie recipe, I would have politely said, "no thank you." Once in a while, though, she'll add something she KNOWS I don't like. When I see or taste one of those dastardly ingredients, I call her out on it, yet she seems offended when I don't ask for a second helping. {Example: sauerkraut in a traditional hamburger & noodle casserole.}

      My omission of bechamel sauce relates to the fact that, in general, I don't like white sauces. I don't care for white salad dressings either. I'm trying to think of a white food I DO like, and all I can come up with is garlic and onions.

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