You see, my mother makes a killer lasagna--without a recipe. She doesn't make it often, but when she does, it seems that I eat it for three meals at least without complaint. A few years ago my family decided that it would be fun to just have lasagna for Christmas. We had three different types: my mother's (obviously; a meat lasagna), a vegetable lasagna, and a seafood lasagna. It was arguably one of my favorite Christmases ever. My father was less than pleased ("Where was the ham?") and it never happened again.
I still can't help but think, as the holidays approach, of the now infamous "Lasagna Christmas". I had been craving both lasagna and comfort food in my last two weeks at school, so I decided for our Tuesday get-together to try a lasagna (spinach prosciutto lasagna, to be exact). My experience was less than satisfactory. No one complained except me, of course. I thought there was an imbalance of flavor--too much spinach, not enough ricotta, not enough sauce, not enough prosciutto (is there ever?). It probably didn't help that I half-assedly doubled the recipe. That's why the photo shows a double-stacked plate of leftover lasagna, with plenty of extra mozzarella and vodka sauce. I was eating leftover lasagna for days, mostly without complaint.
I came home, to sweet Coopersburg, early this evening. I was told Christmas dinner is at our house this year, and the menu is yet to be decided. I'm voting for lasagna, but only if my mother makes it.