May. Mother's Day is coming and I don't want it. I don't want the cards and the brunch and the "Happy Mother's Day, Mama" from children who are alive and a silence from the one who isn't. I don't want the reminder that I am a mother of four who raised five and buried two — Michael to the highway and now Earl to his heart. A wife is a kind of mother too, baby. You feed them and you worry and you stay up listening to them breathe.
But I will accept it. I will accept the flowers and the phone calls and the dinner Denise will organize, because my children need to honor me the same way I needed to honor Hattie Pearl. The honoring is for them, not for me. And I will sit at the table and I will eat the food and I will say, "Thank you, baby, this is lovely," and I will mean it, even when the word "lovely" feels like a language I used to speak.
I did the cooking demonstration for Mrs. Williams's class. Twenty-two second-graders, eight years old, sitting cross-legged on the cafeteria floor, watching me make cornbread. I brought Hattie Pearl's skillet and I told them the story — how the skillet was my grandmother's, how it's nearly eighty years old, how it has never seen soap. Their eyes went huge. "Never?" they said. "Never," I said. "Soap would ruin the seasoning. The seasoning is what makes the cornbread taste like love."
One girl raised her hand and said, "Miss Dot, can you taste love?" I said, "Yes, baby. Every time you eat something someone made for you with their hands and their heart, you're tasting love." She thought about it. Then she said, "My mom makes Kraft mac and cheese. Is that love?" I said, "If she makes it for you because she wants you fed, that is the purest love in the world." Because it is. It doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be fed.
I made macaroni and cheese tonight — not Kraft, but my version, three cheeses, baked with the breadcrumb top, the way the children at Hodge love it. I made a full pan and I ate a square and I took the rest to the teachers' lounge tomorrow, because cooking for one is still the hardest part of this new life, and cooking for many is still the thing that feels most like me.
Now go on and feed somebody.
The macaroni and cheese I made that night was mine — three cheeses, breadcrumb top, a full pan — and I will write that one down for you someday. But the recipe I’m leaving here is this lasagna, because it carries the same spirit: layered, generous, built for more than one. When cooking for yourself feels like a punishment, you cook for many, and you carry it somewhere. This hearty lasagna is the kind of dish that travels well to a teachers’ lounge, a neighbor’s porch, a grief you’re still learning to hold.
Hearty Lasagna
Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 1 hr | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground beef
- 1/2 lb bulk Italian sausage
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
- 1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
- 1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
- 2 tsp dried basil
- 1 tsp dried oregano
- 1 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp black pepper
- 1/2 tsp sugar
- 12 lasagna noodles
- 2 cups ricotta cheese
- 1 egg, lightly beaten
- 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
- 3 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
- 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
Instructions
- Brown the meat. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground beef, sausage, and onion together until meat is no longer pink. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more. Drain the fat.
- Build the sauce. Stir in the crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, basil, oregano, salt, pepper, and sugar. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
- Cook the noodles. While the sauce simmers, cook the lasagna noodles according to package directions until al dente. Drain and lay flat on a lightly oiled baking sheet to prevent sticking.
- Mix the ricotta filling. In a medium bowl, combine the ricotta cheese, egg, parsley, 1/2 cup of the mozzarella, and 1/4 cup of the Parmesan. Stir until smooth.
- Layer the lasagna. Preheat oven to 375°F. Spread 1 cup of meat sauce in the bottom of a greased 13x9-inch baking dish. Layer with 3 noodles, one-third of the ricotta mixture, one-third of the remaining meat sauce, and a generous handful of mozzarella. Repeat layers twice more, finishing with noodles topped by the remaining sauce, mozzarella, and Parmesan.
- Bake covered. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 40 minutes.
- Finish uncovered. Remove the foil and bake an additional 20 minutes, until the cheese is bubbly and golden at the edges.
- Rest before serving. Let the lasagna stand for 15 minutes before cutting. This helps the layers hold when you slice. Cut into squares and carry it somewhere good.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 780mg