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Chicken Curry Lasagna -- The Notebook That Knew More Than Mine

September approaching. The transition month — summer to fall, maternity leave to work, the newborn haze to the reality of being a mother of two with a full-time job and a book in production. Rohan is two months old. Vaccinations this week — he screamed like the world was ending, which from his perspective it probably was. Anaya, who accompanied us, watched her brother get four shots and said, "Brave baby. Not crying baby — brave baby." She's learning empathy through rebranding. The blog readership hit thirty thousand during the maternity leave. The pandemic posts, the second-baby post, the ongoing chronicle of cooking through crisis — they've built an audience that feels less like readers and more like a community. People share recipes in the comments. They share stories about their mothers, their grandmothers, their own versions of the generous pinch. A woman in London started a "Between Two Kitchens" group on social media — people cooking recipes from their heritage and sharing the results. She tagged me. There are four thousand members. Four thousand people, cooking their grandmothers' recipes, because a pharmacist in New Jersey wrote about sambar. The sambar is traveling. Further than Amma could imagine. Further than I imagined when I started. Amma came on Saturday. She brought food — biryani, naturally. But this time she also brought something else: a small notebook. Her handwriting. Inside: recipes she's writing down. "What is this, Amma?" "My recipes. My versions. In case your book gets them wrong." She's writing her own recipes. As a corrective to mine. As an insurance policy against my inevitable inaccuracies. As her own version of preservation, separate from mine, in her own handwriting, with her own measurements ("a handful," "enough," "until it smells right"). I held the notebook and felt the specific weight of a woman who is losing her memory choosing to write things down. She knows. She knows what's happening. She knows the recipes might leave her. And she's fighting back the only way she knows: with a pen and a pot. I made her rasam tonight. From her notebook, not mine. Her handwriting. Her measurements. Her version. It was right. Of course it was right.

Amma’s notebook is sitting on my kitchen counter right now, and every time I reach past it to grab a spice, I feel its weight all over again — the weight of a woman choosing to remember before she forgets. I made her rasam from those pages the night she left, and then the next evening, with Rohan finally sleeping and Anaya requesting “noodles with the yellow sauce,” I turned to this Chicken Curry Lasagna: two kitchens layered into one pan, spice and cream, turmeric and ricotta, the kind of fusion that would have made Amma raise an eyebrow and then ask for a second helping. It felt right — a dish that refuses to choose between the place you come from and the place you’re feeding your children.

Chicken Curry Lasagna

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 12 lasagna noodles, cooked al dente and drained
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil or neutral oil
  • 1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 tablespoons curry powder
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
  • 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
  • 1/2 cup chicken broth
  • 3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or diced (rotisserie works well)
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1 container (15 oz) whole-milk ricotta cheese
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped, plus more for garnish
  • 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
  • 1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
  2. Build the curry sauce. Heat oil in a large skillet or saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5–6 minutes. Add garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Bloom the spices. Add curry powder, cumin, turmeric, and cayenne to the pan. Stir constantly for 30 seconds until the spices coat the onions and smell toasted. This step matters — don’t rush it.
  4. Simmer the sauce. Pour in diced tomatoes, coconut milk, and chicken broth. Stir to combine, scraping up any spiced bits from the bottom. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook uncovered for 10 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly. Stir in shredded chicken and salt. Remove from heat.
  5. Mix the ricotta layer. In a medium bowl, stir together ricotta, egg, cilantro, and 1/4 teaspoon salt until smooth.
  6. Layer the lasagna. Spread a thin layer of curry sauce on the bottom of the prepared baking dish. Lay 4 lasagna noodles over the sauce, overlapping slightly. Spread half the ricotta mixture over the noodles, then spoon over one-third of the remaining curry sauce, then sprinkle with 2/3 cup mozzarella. Repeat: 4 noodles, remaining ricotta, another third of curry sauce, 2/3 cup mozzarella. Finish with the final 4 noodles, remaining curry sauce, and the last 2/3 cup mozzarella plus all of the Parmesan.
  7. Bake covered. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 30 minutes.
  8. Bake uncovered. Remove foil and bake an additional 15–20 minutes until the top is bubbling and golden at the edges.
  9. Rest before slicing. Let the lasagna rest for 10 minutes before cutting — this allows the layers to set and makes for cleaner slices. Scatter fresh cilantro over the top before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 610mg

Priya Krishnamurthy
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 283 of Priya’s 30-year story · Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.

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