Grandma's Lasagna

You might have read the title and been like, hey, is this going to be like the older and thicker version of Eminem’s classic line about his mom’s spaghetti? Though that was my best joke of the week, this is actually about why I just cried over lasagna.

My grandmother passed away a few weeks ago, and I knew there was going to be a moment in the future when it would finally hit me that she was gone, and turns out, it was the damn lasagna. This is her recipe below:

My aunt Cindy typed this up in the 80’s as a bridal shower gift and it has lived in our cute little recipe box that is in the shape of a little cabin since I can remember. The fact that she titled this recipe “from the kitchen of: Mom” makes it even more wholesome. You can see the tomato sauce splatter and other happy accidents from cooking this beautiful, simple meal year after year. I can smell the sauce and remember my grandma holding me up for me to help lay the noodles in neat rows. I have made this recipe a few times by myself, mostly for friends who need a lot of meals that are easily reheated. Most recently, I can remember my mom and I making this meal for my grandparents to have on hand for a hot meal as cooking was becoming a bit too burdensome with their age. This recipe is an amazing combination of family and love. A recipe born from my paternal side with its Scottish roots, spiced up with hot Italian sausage and swapping cottage cheese for ricotta from my maternal side with its Spanish and German roots. And here I am, a culmination of all of these women, making this meal for a family with a brand new little woman.

One of my closest friends just welcomed his first child into the world earlier this month, and I am so ready to spoil this little girl. If you know me or my family, we show our love with acts of service, and especially in my favorite love language of food. My father is the undefeated grillmaster, who always cooked me up extra chicken breasts on Sundays when I was working 100-hour weeks as a coach and couldn’t find time to cook for myself. My mother is the best baker I know, constantly showering people with handmade cakes and pastries for any occasion, big or small. My brother is the world’s best host, he insists on curating everything you love so that you feel at home when you’re with him. And then there’s me, who bakes constantly for my coworkers and cries over lasagna late on a Thursday night.

At my grandmother’s funeral, I spoke with one of my dad’s old coworkers who had an interesting take on women’s history and family. The quote I remember most was, “Men keep their lineage because they pass on their last name, but women keep theirs because they pass on their culture.” This struck me and I have been thinking a lot about where that shows up in my life, and the easiest and one of the most important places is food. Cooking has always been an important piece of our family, with many traditional recipes from both sides still showing up today. Most notably, green chili and pasties are staples that go back generations on each side of our tree, and being in the kitchen with my mom and grandma holds some really special memories.

I think what I am getting at here is that it really sucks losing people you love and getting older is dumb. But it is also incredibly special and curious knowing that something as simple as lasagna can tie us all together and make us remember one another far into the future. Knowing that my grandma’s recipe will be dinner for this brand-new family made a lump catch in my throat tonight. The little things matter, so show up to help with dinner or dishes because you will always want moments like that back.