How to make a vegetable lasagna

 First you need some principles. Strong principles. As in, when you eat healthy, you don’t just go and buy any marinara sauce from the store, you make it from scratch. Of course you do.

First, peel, deseed and cube ten fresh tomatoes. If you have never tried that sport, let’s be frank, you haven’t lived. And YET! And yet there is something even more fun than peeling, deseeding and cubing tomatoes! It’s the half hour you spend afterwards cleaning chunks of tomatoes and spots of tomato juice from the floor, the table, the walls, the garbage, your apron, your utensils and your hair respectively. Messiest activity I ever tried in my life!

Then, slice onions, shred garlic and cook the whole thing. Your kitchen is like Vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, prepare the lasagna. You know how you take a handful of spaghetti, plunge it in boiling water and fold it on itself? Well, it doesn’t work with lasagna. At least not my rice pasta lasagna. It’s stiff as a board, and five minutes later, the top half of the pasta is still perfectly dry. Follows a lot of skillful manipulations. You don’t want your lasagna to break, but you do want it to cook!

Meanwhile, wash, then start chopping your vegetables: mushrooms, bell pepper, more onion and zucchinis. Spread on a baking sheet, sprinkle with olive oil and in the oven they go.

Oops, the pasta is ready! Drain, rinse, add the tiniest bit of olive oil so it doesn’t stick together and set aside.

Grab the marinara sauce that was cooling outside and pulverize in the blender because you don’t like big chunks of tomatoes. Your kitchen is like vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, it’s time to start preparing the ricotta mixture. I don’t like it too runny, so I know to add an egg to it, to solidify it a bit. Problem is, my eggs are pretty old. Bah, eggs last forever don’t they? Now let me teach you the most useful trick: if unsure whether your eggs are still good, fill a tall glass with water, and put the egg in it. If it sinks to the bottom, it’s fine for consumption. I try it. My eight eggs are joyfully bobbing like cork. Darn. Ok, my ricotta won’t have an egg today.

Take the veggies out of the oven. 

Now it’s finally time to assemble the whole shenanigan. One layer of sauce, one layer of pasta. Darn it, the oil didn’t do its job and the lasagna is completely stuck together. Detangle delicately, then carefully place the pitifully torn pieces over the sauce. Spread a layer of egg-free ricotta. Cover with baby spinach. Sprinkle half the vegetables. Repeat until everything is now sitting in your baking dish. Cover with shredded mozzarella. Return to the oven.

Your kitchen looks like Vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, it’s time to take your lasagna out. You’re done! You place it on the counter to cool a bit and, eyeing it balefully, you fall on your couch, exhausted, and swear you will never again spend 3 hours and 4 sink-fulls of dishes making homemade vegetable lasagna.