So, I had this brilliant idea that I was going to try a new lasagna recipe. I mean, it looks delicious, right? Of course, I didn’t really note the complexity of it – or the length of time it would take – until it was too late. So. I’m making lasagna at night, and I probably won’t be done until like 11 pm. I’m a ridiculous person.
And no, I don’t know why I didn’t just do lasagna the way that I always do, with jar sauce and with the recipe I’ve been making for 20 years. Well, except I do. It all began when I learned that one of the people who will eat this lasagna is A Picky Eater. And the whole reason I said I’d make lasagna in the first place was because this person suggested it. So I felt a) a challenge to make something that would push this person out of his comfort zone a bit while at the same time, I was Being Accommodating to Pickiness (which I sort of hate, but whatever). And I agreed to make the lasagna, too, because I knew I have Writing Group coming up on Thursday, so I figured that this would be a two birds with one stone sort of endeavor – I mean, really, once you’re making one lasagna, you might as well make a couple more. See? I’m not going to all this effort for a Picky Eater! I’m actually saving time and being smart. Except, of course, I’m making a lasagna that takes like 75 hours to cook and has tons of steps and whatever, and let’s be real: I wouldn’t be doing all that if I didn’t want to dazzle the Picky Eater.
And can I just say that I feel that liking a picky eater enough to actually cook for one is really a horrible tragedy in my life. I am a person who will eat anything and who is an inventive cook. And I internalized a belief somewhere around the age of five that people who are picky are ungrateful and selfish, and also that they lack imagination. (Yes, I realize that this is a mean way to be, and that I am prejudiced and awful.)
So yes, I am cooking a lasagna that takes 235 hours to prepare. Because it’s the “smart” thing to do.