Nearing the journey's end

I have a holy grail and I'm getting closer and closer to finding it. Back in college I spent some time in Italy wallowing in mud. I mean, on an archeological dig. Lots of life-changing experiences happened to me there. I touched things no human had touched in 2500 years. I got to clean dirt off of long forgotten objects in the tiny building where Giotto was born. I was chased, mid-pee in the woods, by a Range Rover and lived to tell about it. And most importantly, I had the pesto lasagna that has haunted me ever since.



This was, of course, some time ago. My memory has dimmed some as to the flavors and the distinctions between the layers. All I remember is the experience of eating it and wanting to remember every bite. Our meals were served outdoors every evening. We sat at long tables set on a hill over-looking fields of sunflowers and tomatoes. Chickens ran freely in the yard and the wine we drank was made on the estate we were living on. Each meal was three courses and, well, fucking amazing. Okay, you think I'm about make some snarky comment like "I WISH". But no, it really was that idyllic. These evenings were nicely balanced out by the fact that we woke every morning at 5AM to trudge up, what I recall to be, a 90 degree incline, to sit and dig in mud all day, ginormous slugs clinging to our pants. Our breakfast and lunch consisted of rock hard bread that cut the roof of my mouth and perhaps some mustard and onion if there was enough to share. In the evening we'd haul pounds upon pounds of dug up roof tiles to the bottom of the hill. Before dinner we'd scrub them clean and return them to boxes; boxes that we hauled back up the hill the next morning to dump in a pit and re-bury. Please don't ask, all I know is it had something to do with Italian law, and our instructors being hell-bent on abiding by it. And when we complained, we were told of another group of students digging up an archaic pig farm on a rocky coast with no trees to shield them from the beating sun, and weren't we glad we had the trees and got to dig up things infinitely more interesting than pig bones? We'd all collectively shudder and I remember being truly thankful for our trees and our mud... even if they did house slugs the size of infants.

Which brings me back to my holy grail. It is possible our idyllic dinners were mediocre. It is possible that I have mistakenly imagined that this lasagna was, in fact, earth-shattering, when it was merely a tiny shudder. We were hungry and exhausted. Anything that didn't cut my mouth up as I tried to chew it was like manna from heaven. However, I distinctly remember one of my fellow "students", Arnie. Arnie was 75 years old. He had recently lost his wife and was filling his time travelling. He photographed every meal we ate. Arnie would shoulder his way to the front of the line every night just to take a picture of our yet to be devoured food. For that reason alone I know that my memory of those meals being amazing was not an illusion. That pesto lasagna, I'm sure, was as fantastic as I remember it being.



This weekend, I visited a friend who took upon herself the commendable task of planting 9 basil plants this summer. My basil wasted away long ago due to some mangy mutt in the neighborhood who peed on it every day. It still stands, a dingy yellow, bearing testament to the pee it drank all summer long. Enter my friend and her acres of basil. Her plants are still a gorgeous glossy green and she has far far more than she can use. I was able to grab enough for a few batches of pesto intended for yet another chapter in my search for my holy grail.



Well, the recipe I tried this weekend made a damn fine pesto bechamel sauce, but as a lasagna it was pretty one note. The lasagna I had in Italy actually had layers of plain pesto, so you could see some oil in the pasta. I know this might not sound appetizing, but it was. So what I'm giving you here is what I *hope* to be my final iteration of this pasta recipe. All of the components have been tested, but not in this particular combination. So you tell me... is it the one? I'm so sure it is I'm posting it here. If you make it, please try to eat it outside, with candles and as much wine as you can bear to drink. I promise, it will be infinitely better that way.

Pesto Lasagna
Adapted from Chez Panisse Pasta, Pizza & Calzone by Alice Waters, Patricia Curtan and Martine Labro

For the pesto
3 cloves garlic
Coarse salt
Ground black pepper
4 1/2 cups fresh basil leaves
3/4 cups olive oil
1/2 cup pecans
2/3 cup shredded parmesan and pecorino romano blended

For the bechamel sauce
3 Tbsp butter
3 Tbsp flour
2 cups half-and-half
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
Salt and pepper
Ground nutmeg
White pepper
2 sprigs thyme
2 sprigs parsley
Bay leaf
3 cloves garlic
1 slice onion

For the pasta
This recipe is infinitely better if the pasta is handmade. So much so that I don't recommend eating it any other way. I like this recipe and I roll it out at the thinnest setting. It's very delicate and is very fragrant.

To assemble
1 cup fresh mozzarella
1 cup breadcrumbs
1/3 cup parmesan and pecorino romano blended
2 Tbsp butter

I make my pesto in a food processor, but I know everyone has their favorite ways. I don't own a mortar large enough to make mine in, but if I did, I bet that would be the way to do it. However, to make it in a food processor just toss the ingredients in, add half the oil and process. I then drizzle in the rest of the way after you've tasted it for seasoning.

To make the bechamel sauce, melt the butter on the stove on low heat. As soon as it's melted add the flour and stir with a wooden spoon for about 4-5 mins. Don't let the butter or the flour brown! Combine the half-and-half and the cream and set aside. Whisk the milk into the roux, over low heat, until it's thickened slightly. Then pour the cream mixture in an even stream into the sauce and keep whisking for a few minutes until combined and slightly thick. Turn off the heat and season with salt, pepper, nutmeg and white pepper. Toss your thyme, parsley, onion slice, bay leaf and garlic cloves into the sauce. Set the pan on top of a double boiler, cover and let barely simmer for an hour, stirring occasionally.

Remove bechamel from the heat and let cool slightly as you finish making the pasta following the directions here.

Remove the thyme, parsley, onion slice, bay leaf and garlic cloves from the bechamel sauce and toss out. Stir one half of the pesto into the bechamel sauce.

When assembling your lasagna try to lay the first layer the noodles in such way that large pieces of the noodles are continue to hang over all four sides of the dish. Once the dish is filled you will wrap these extra layers over the top and wrap them like a package. This seals in the sauce as the dish bakes. Use a 9x12 pan. Spread a small amount of pesto on the bottom, just to grease the dish. Lay the first layer of noodles as described above. Cover in a layer of the pesto bechamel sauce. Add a layer of noodles. Cover in a layer of shredded mozzarella. Add a layer of noodles, then cover in a layer of pesto. Repeat these 3 layers. Top the last layer with bechamel. Fold the noodles hanging over the edge of the dish over the top of the lasagna, like a package. Sprinkle with the parmesan and pecorino combination. Then sprinkle with the bread crumbs and then dot with the butter. Bake in a 350 degree oven covered in foil for 15-20 minutes. Remove the foil and bake 15 more minutes, or until the top is a golden brown. Let set for about 10 minutes before serving.