I'll be candid with all of my readers - OK, both of my readers - I'm really upset with my mom these days.
No, she hasn't really done anything that bad or said anything wrong. My mom (and her brothers) have a proud Italian-American heritage, but they're a little comical at times. I like to say we think we're cast in "The Godfather" but we're actually more like the cast of "Moonstruck." (Movie buffs might get this.) But there's one stereotype of Italian-Americans I really wish my mom would resemble more closely.
It's her cooking.
My grandmother was the best cook I ever knew. (This may be offensive, but my grandmother's cooking totally puts your grandmother's cooking to shame. Put up an argument if you want but it won't matter.) I'm the pickiest eater ever and her food was AWESOME. I have such a love of the memory of her cooking that I still use her garlic press in the hope that I can channel her culinary spirit in anything I cook. Whenever I smell garlic and onions simmering in olive oil I still think of her.
And what does my mother do with this proud family legacy? WHAT DOES SHE DO?
She makes tofu lasagna.
TOFU.
IN LASAGNA.
This is so wrong, on so many levels, that I can't even begin to describe to you the utter pain, betrayal, and anguish I feel over this. Tofu does NOT belong in lasagna. It doesn't. There are some things you just can't compromise on in life and this is mine.
I've reasoned with mom. I've asked her to make a lasagna like grandma made. But NO. She talks all about being "healthy" and mentions something that sounds like it ends in "esterol" - blah blah blah, I don't really pay attention once she says she won't make grandma's cooking.
My grandmother - God rest her soul - is no doubt rolling over in her grave about this. So if I can't free her spirit, I'm gonna free her cooking. The key to any lasagna is the gravy. So despite the risk of being disowned by my mother and the rest of my family, I am going to publish my grandmother's super-secret, how-could-you-share-this-you-disrespectful-heathen Italian gravy recipe.
If my family refuses to speak with me again, I understand. Please realize I HAD to do this.
Here it is. Deep breath.
Ingredients: Whatever is in the house
Wake up early. Place ingredients in an old, large saucepot. Simmer all day. Serve hot.
4 comments:
Bwahahahaha. Nice, David. Very nice.
The fact that I spent this afternoon learning how to leave a comment does NOT mean I am hurt or angry with my clever son (who happens to be an excellent cook himself).
Suffice to say that Grandma died at 75 tipping the scales at about the same weight as Tony Soprano.
Love to write more, but I'm off to the gym...
David's Mom
P.S.
The recipe is completely authentic.
Ah, the ingenuity of the Italian grandmother! Only those of us who have had one know the truth behind your recipe. my grandmother used to say to this picky eater, "Joey, tell me what you want. I'll make you anything"
Nothing can compare to an Italian NONNA!
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