Today was a day of remembering my grandmother. The other night I had made a dish that we call Turkish Pasta. We had it on our mini-moon (the honeymoon for our civil marriage) in Konstanz, Germany. It was a simple pasta dish and for some reason I was craving it the other night. In the process of making that dish, I had inadvertently made way too much meat sauce, so I put the rest in the fridge and had the brilliant idea to turn the sauce into the basis of a lasagna of sorts.
I could just hear my grandmother now scolding me for changing the family recipe. She would have taken it as an affront to generations of lasagna making and would have claimed that it was not fit to be called lasagna.
As usual, my kids all turned their noses up at the creation, but my husband and I loved it! We actually ate all 5 servings (and are now regretting our greed). This meat sauce is so yummy that I think that I will need write down what I put in it because this was not cooking with a recipe cooking. This was cooking from memory and taste. This is the cooking I was taught with. I am religious about following new recipes to the t. Then I take whatever culinary liberties that I would like to take. In the process most meals have my stamp on them. This was just plain old good food. A warm hug from the inside that leaves you feeling all gooey and comforted.
Hopefully, you have a meal this week that hugs you like that too.
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