The book arrived.
A box. On the doorstep. Wednesday afternoon. A brown cardboard box with the publisher's address in the corner and 'AUTHOR COPIES' written on the shipping label.
I brought it inside. I did NOT open it. I put it on the kitchen table and I stared at it and I called Mom.
'It's here, Mom.'
'Don't open it. I'm getting my phone. Kevin! KEVIN! Rachel has the book! Get in here!'
FaceTime. Mom and Dad on the screen. Me at the kitchen table with a box cutter and a belly and Caleb climbing on a chair to see what's happening.
I opened the box. Inside: ten copies of 'Dinner at 1800: A Military Wife's Kitchen' by Rachel Abernathy. Paperback. The cover: cast iron, recipe card, wildflowers. My name.
I picked one up. It was heavier than I expected — books have weight, physical weight, the weight of 112,000 words and sixty recipes and thirty years of my mother's cooking. I turned it over. The back cover had a photo of me (taken by Ryan, in our kitchen, at the counter, with the cast iron visible behind me) and a quote: 'Food is never just food. It's who we are. It's where we've been. It's the hand that wrote the recipe card.'
I opened it to the dedication page. I hadn't seen it in the final print. I'd written it months ago and sent it to Clara and then forgotten the exact words.
The dedication: 'For Donna. Who put dinner on the table every night at 1800 for thirty years and never once asked for credit. This book is your credit. This book is your name in print. This book is every recipe card, every casserole, every night you sat at the kitchen table after the girls were asleep and held the family together with nothing but food and love and stubbornness. For all the Donnas. Always for all the Donnas.'
Mom read it on the screen. Her lips moving. Her eyes filling.
Dad stood behind her. His hand on her shoulder.
She didn't speak for a long time. Then she said, very quietly: 'You wrote my name in a book, Rachel.'
'I wrote your name in the FIRST book, Mom. In every book. Your name is everywhere.'
Caleb pointed at the book and said, 'MAMA BOOK! Cook book!' And he was right. It's a cook book. It's my mama's book. It's the book that started in a kitchen in Norfolk and ended in a kitchen in the desert and belongs to every kitchen in between.
I'm sending the first copy to Mom. Priority mail. Overnight. Because she should hold it before anyone else. Because the book is hers. It was always hers.
The book is real. The book is in my hands. My name is on the cover.
And Donna's name is on the first page.
The dedication I wrote for Dinner at 1800 mentions “every casserole” — and I meant it literally, because casseroles were how my mom kept the world from falling apart on the hard nights. This Cheesy Shell Lasagna is one of those recipes: the kind you can pull together before 1800, the kind that feeds six or eight or however many show up at the table, the kind that tastes like someone loves you. It’s in the book for a reason. It’s in the book because it was always on the table.
Cheesy Shell Lasagna
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 12 oz medium pasta shells
- 1 lb ground beef (85/15)
- 1/2 lb mild Italian sausage, casings removed
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 jar (24 oz) marinara sauce
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
- 1 tsp Italian seasoning
- 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- 15 oz whole-milk ricotta cheese
- 1 large egg
- 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
- 2 cups shredded mozzarella, divided
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, divided
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 375°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
- Cook the pasta. Boil the shell pasta in well-salted water until just shy of al dente, about 1 minute less than package directions. Drain and set aside — it will finish cooking in the oven.
- Brown the meat. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef and Italian sausage together, breaking it up as it browns, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pan.
- Build the sauce. Add the diced onion to the skillet and cook until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more. Stir in the marinara, diced tomatoes, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes. Simmer on low for 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
- Mix the cheese filling. In a medium bowl, stir together the ricotta, egg, parsley, 1 cup of the mozzarella, and 1/4 cup of the Parmesan. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
- Combine. Add the drained pasta shells directly into the meat sauce and stir gently to coat. Pour half the mixture into the prepared baking dish. Drop spoonfuls of the ricotta mixture evenly over the top, then pour the remaining pasta and sauce over everything.
- Top and bake. Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup mozzarella and 1/4 cup Parmesan evenly over the top. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 25 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 10–15 minutes until the cheese is bubbling and golden at the edges.
- Rest before serving. Let the casserole rest for 5–10 minutes before scooping. Garnish with additional fresh parsley if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 485 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 41g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 740mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 302 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.