I just made a lasagna for our supper. Normally our mother makes supper, but she's in America for the week. Lasagna's the only food I've
cared enough about to learn how to make, so lasagna it is. It will be a great meal, I'm sure. I've made lasagnas many times before, and it almost always starts with me messing up. For example, there was one time when I somehow got it into my head that I was supposed to be making
two lasagnas when there were clearly only enough noodles for one.
Well, this time, I wanted to make a
good lasagna.
(Of course, I always start that way, so this says nothing.) I was careful about which brand of tomato sauce I chose to use; I was careful to make sure that there was enough of all the ingredients; I was careful to make sure that the cottage cheese was okay, despite the fact that it was a day past expiration date and I couldn't smell it because my nose is so stuffy because I've had a
cold for the past few days. Then I poured half of the cottage cheese on top of the tomato sauce.
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I blamed it on the cold.Then there's the cheese. I hate that part. Grating a chunk of cheese is so
unnatural, you know? The tedium drives me crazy. Wait, I've gotta go down to check if the lasagna's ready.
Okay, not ready. Where was I?- oh right, the cheese. It just sort of goes on and on and on and on. I'm very slow at grating cheese. And there's really not too much to think about while you're doing- it's just
up, down, up, down. Blah.
Then there's the smell when it's almost done; the smell is incredible. It retroactively justifies the creation.
I've just eaten it. How was it? Excellent. At least, I
imagined it was. Truth is, I could barely
taste it.
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