On home cooking

And Nonna Angela's lasagne recipe

I've been thinking about “home cooking” lately and I had to go and pull Laurie Colwin's book of the same name off the shelf. Have you read it? This is a book I love to go back to, time and time again, and just read her words, which I'll nod along to, over and over again. So much of what she writes seems so familiar to me even though we have very different experiences of home cooking and are from different generations.

I always hone in on something different when I read this book and that is one of the things I love about it. This time this topic jumped out at me because it is one I've been thinking and wondering about recently – what to cook and feed ourselves and our families in our busy, “modern” lives (especially when there is so much noise around what we should and shouldn’t be eating or feeding others — Virginia Sole-Smith’s Burnt Toast has some really interesting articles on this, like this analysis of “Kid Food Instagram”) and why on earth some of us want to torture ourselves by not letting food be a source of joy, if we can. It was 1987 and Laurie Colwin was writing from New York City:

“It is a depressing fact of life that we must now be so vigilant about what we eat. Not a day goes by that we are not told that something else is bad for us: butter, coffee, chocolate, tap water, wheat...

We live in an age of convenience foods and household appliances. We do not have to slaughter pigs, pluck chickens or make soap and candles. We do not hand-wash clothes. Machines often wash our dishes for us – and still everyone complains that they hardly have any time. The American family, we are told, is falling apart. It does not dine: it grazes from snack to snack...

I have no idea whether or not the American family is falling apart. I do know that many people still like to cook for their family, but that when they rush home after a day at the office they may not have a lot of time and energy to spend on cooking.”

Are you nodding along too? Even if you live somewhere else? It is quite amazing to me that these words were written almost 40 years ago and this still rings true, we seem to have not gotten out of this. But the beauty of Colwin's book is that it is in many ways so timeless and it is still there to inspire you to be comfortable cooking at home. She shares recipes, witty stories and tips, all in her reassuring voice, and they are achievable, good things.

Like everyone else, I don't seem to have a lot of time, and so the meals I make for my family are really whatever happens to be the quickest option, except on the occasions when I have the foresight to dedicate a bit of time to preparing something well in advance (like soaking dried beans overnight – but that I often forget too and I end up resorting to this hack, which is a good one – or making a sugo that I can then freeze in portions), so that by dinner time, I can just heat up or throw together. I love having these kind of dishes saved in the freezer to break up all the ‘quick’ dinners.

When I read, “No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers,” I sat up straight, nodding. And then Laurie continues, “When people enter the kitchen, they often drag their childhood in with them.”

This is so true for me, especially since becoming a parent. I often look for those simple, comforting dishes that I remember my Japanese mother making me when I was little, and those are the sort of things I crave and often turn to to feed my little ones (incidentally, this is the theme of the new Japanese home cooking cookbook I am currently working on! I will share more soon but you can read about the time this book proposal was turned down here — along with one of my favourite, quick, delicious salads — and yes, I changed publisher. It will be published by Smith Street Books and out in the world in October 2023).

But I wanted to share this recipe that has become part of our home cooking repertoire and is the dish that I think will become my childrens’ nostalgic dish. It is my mother in law's pasta al forno (lasagne), which was much requested after I posted a video of it from last weekend's Sunday lunch at her home – it's not one for those short on time, you will want to make this ahead when you have a chunk of time to spend in the kitchen. You can't take too many shortcuts here and expect it turn out as good - but saying that I’m suggesting below that you use pre-made pasta sheets, as Angela does. I’d go the extra step making homemade bechamel (though she used to use pre-made bechamel too) and grating the good Parmesan (though you might, like Angela, like to use pre-grated).

I find this kind of cooking very soothing and meditative – it doesn’t require many hours of actual work, it’s fairly low maintenance, but you’re babysitting a pot bubbling on the stove for a few hours, so it is the kind of thing I set aside a morning or an evening to dedicate time to. The result is something that is so obviously made with love that you can't help but feel comforted and nourished and happy when you eat this.

And I promise you it's worth the time because once you've made this, it freezes well and the leftovers heated up are just as great as when they were freshly made, and then you'll have a quick dinner on hand for another time – even if you just make the ragu (or batches of it), to save for later for serving with pasta or on a creamy bed of polenta (if you're in the southern hemisphere this is exactly the kind of thing I crave in the cold weather).

This is my mother in law Angela's signature dish, really her only dish, the one she really does well. I will just break the Italian nonna stereotype and will try not to over-romanticize home cooking for a moment by keeping things real – I hope she won't mind me saying this, but cooking is not Angela's best skill. This is something that Laurie Colwin’s Home Cooking is about too. She admits that some are born with an innate cooking ability, but for others a good set of skills is one to be learned. All you really need is that one great signature dish.

Angela is the most wonderful mother in law and grandmother but it is not her fault that cooking isn't her forte. Her mother, Lina, who she lived with until she passed away, was a great cook – I have heard all the stories all the time about Nonna Lina's cooking. Marco's school friends used to invite themselves over when they heard Nonna Lina was cooking braciole (veal scaloppine) for dinner – and she guarded her kitchen quite protectively. Angela was only allowed to grate the cheese and didn't do as much hands on cooking as a young girl. And to be fair, Angela spent 40 years working hard as an Italian professor at the high school in San Miniato while raising two children. She wasn't necessarily pottering about the kitchen honing her skills or cooking for the family as Nonna Lina was there to do that.

But this pasta al forno has become her specialty, after taking the recipe over from Nonna Lina. It is the dish most requested by her grandchildren and it is the one she'll prepare for every family gathering, often in colossal aluminium trays. She never used to measure anything and as a result would often make double the amount actually needed, so getting her to make this for me several times to include it in my book of family recipes, Tortellini at Midnight, was an eye-opener – but I finally managed to get her to nail the ingredient amounts!

There's a rhythm to the making of pasta al forno, or lasagne. There's her sugo, the meat sauce, which has to be made the day before. Angela sets her two largest pots on the stove and makes industrial quantities of it (there is always leftover for tossing through pasta another day). Then there's the bechamel, which she used to just buy ready-made but now makes herself (and it is all the better for it). She uses bought fresh lasagne sheets and bought, pre-ground parmesan cheese to make life easier (I believe she might be scarred from always having to grate cheese for a large family of cheese lovers), and balls of fresh mozzarella – not traditional, but Angela's family, half of which came from the south of Italy, loved this addition. I do too.

Then it's an assembly line. First some sugo across the bottom of the tray. Then a layer of pasta. More sugo, generous swathes of it. Bechamel, quite fluid, strategically blobbed all over, then stirred right in to the layer of sugo and mixed together into a rusty-pink, creamy sauce. Then the torn mozzarella goes on, here and there, followed by a dusting of grated parmesan, and so on until the tray is full.

My girls have always liked to help during this part of the recipe, I have photos of my daughter from 18 months old, under Nonna's wing, swirling sugo and sprinkling too much cheese in one spot. It's baked until its bubbling and crisp, and this is done well in advance – this, I believe is part of the secret to the success of a good pasta al forno – with time on your side, the whole lasagne settles and the flavours mingle. It's always better after a rest.

When I was watching her, documenting it for Tortellini at Midnight, I will never forget when she said to me, “Whenever I make pasta al forno, even now, I have her here next to me.” Lina, she meant. Right up until her old age Lina was in the kitchen, cooking for her daughter and her grown grandchildren, Marco included. When she was so frail she could finally no longer keep up with the cooking, she had Angela finally do it for her but she would insist on sitting in – or rather, standing, propped up against the corner of the kitchen table – overlooking everything, instructing. Still cooking, really: “You missed a spot there. You need a bit more sugo here.” When Angela would try to send her to bed, Lina would shake her head and say she'd rather keep her company and participate in the cooking. No one who cooks, cooks alone.

Angela's Pasta al Forno (lasagne)
Serves 6-8*

For the meat sugo:
1 onion, finely chopped
½ celery stalk, finely chopped
¼ piece of carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
1 sprig rosemary, leaves picked and finely chopped
a few whole sage leaves
handful of parsley leaves, finely chopped
4-5 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
600 grams beef mince
300 grams pork mince
400 ml white wine
600 ml bottled tomato passata (puree)
600 ml water
salt and pepper

For the bechamel:
50 grams butter
40 grams flour
500 ml milk, warmed
salt and white pepper (or ground nutmeg)

For the assembly:
400-500 grams store bought fresh pasta sheets
150 grams grated parmesan or grana
250 grams mozzarella

Prepare the meat sauce at least a day in advance, if possible. Cook the onion, celery, carrot and garlic with the herbs and olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add a good pinch of salt and cook until the vegetables are soft, about 10 minutes. Add the beef and pork mince and cook, stirring frequently, until the meat becomes evenly opaque, about 7 minutes. Add another pinch of salt, pour over the wine and turn heat to high, stirring occasionally, until the liquid is reduced significantly, about 15 minutes.

Add the tomato passata and the water. Add another good pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper. Bring the sauce to a boil, turn to low and simmer very gently for at least 1 hour, uncovered. Check on it occasionally, stirring. It should reduce into a slightly thickened, fragrant sauce. Taste for seasoning and adjust to your liking. Set aside. If doing this in advance, transfer the sauce to an air tight container, let cool completely and refrigerate until needed.

For the bechamel, heat the butter and flour in a saucepan over low-medium heat and once the butter has melted, stir together for a couple of minutes until you have a thick paste-like mixture. Slowly whisk in the warm milk (a little at a time at first) and whisk until the milk is incorporated and smooth. Cook the bechamel for about 10 minutes, stirring often, until thickened. The sauce should coat the back of a spoon easily but it doesn't need to be too thick – Angela keeps this fairly liquid. Season with salt and white pepper (nutmeg is more traditional but the family prefer pepper). Set aside. You can also do this advance and store in the refrigerator up to three days before needed.

When ready to assemble the lasagne, heat oven to 180ºC and bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Blanch the pasta sheets for 1 minute each, draining with a slotted spoon and placing on a clean, damp tea towel – be careful not to overlap the pasta sheets, they stick easily. (You can skip the blanching if you like, many pasta sheets are designed to not have to be blanched now. I think it gives the lasagne a better texture in the end — the pasta has a better bite, and soaks up less liquid somehow — but it is a subtle difference).

Just before assembling the lasagne, reheat the meat sauce as it will be easier to layer and stir through the bechamel.

In a glass or ceramic rectangular casserole dish, assemble the following layers: first a thin layer of sauce on the bottom of the dish, then a single layer of par-boiled pasta sheets, another layer of sauce, a handful of parmesan and some torn pieces of mozzarella dotted here and there. Continue layering pasta, sauce and cheese, ending in a layer of cheese.

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until golden brown and bubbling. Let rest at least 15 minutes before serving.

*Note: I'm giving you the recipe here with store bought lasagne sheets as Angela always does (but if you want to make it yourself, use 300 grams of flour and 3 eggs and roll through a pasta machine if you have it, or as thin as you can get with a rolling pin). When Angela makes a bigger tray for a family gathering to serve 12 she simply doubles the bechamel, but keeps the sugo quantity the same, and adds a little more mozzarella to make it stretch.

The full recipe is in Tortellini at Midnight (Hardie Grant Books 2019), photographs of Angela and my daughter Mariù in 2018 by Lauren Bamford, the blurry one of the two of them in 2014 and the rest are mine.