Lasagna

What kind of supermarket lets you pose the pasta in with the
cheese for pictures? The unwitting kind.

I'm gonna say it. I know you're all thinking it, so I may as well come clean. I'm not Italian. Not even a little. I don't even pronounce pasta and cheese names douchily. Well, maybe on the weekends. The point is, just because I'm not Italian, it doesn't mean that I can't know how to make some kickass lasagna! Probably. I mean, I'm not rolling out my own pasta here, so vaguely offensive Italian grandmother stereotypes from pretty much every TV show would probably hit me with a rolling pin for even calling this lasagna. And then they'd feed me some cannoli. Because apparently that's all that TV knows about italian culture.

Ingredients:

1 lb Lasagna (Normally I'm all for pasta substitutions, but it's not a good idea here. For incredibly obvious reasons)
8 oz Ricotta Cheese
8 oz Mozzarella Cheese
4 oz Parmesan Cheese
4 oz Mascarpone Cheese
1 bag Spinach
2 TBSP Olive Oil
3 Eggs (I'm seriously getting tired just writing all of these damned ingredients.)
1 large can Crushed Tomatoes
1 pint Crimini Mushrooms
1 standard-issue Onion
1/2 cup of fresh Basil
2 cloves Garlic
1 tsp dried Oregano (Seriously, when will it stop?)
1/2 tsp ground Thyme
1/2 tsp Black Pepper
An unspecified amount of Salt (And that's it! Hooray! I need a nap)

Woo! As parenthetical me may have pointed out, that there is an intimidatingly large butt-load of ingredients. But it's worth it! Still, for the more timid, and/or lazy, and/or busy of you out there, I'll say this: If you use a store-bought pasta sauce, you can ignore all the ingredients listed after the Eggs. Also, thanks, because now the fictional grandmothers hate you even more than me. I hope you like vaguely racist cannoli.

Now then, the first step is to bring a large pot of water to a boil, and then add in a somewhat large person's pinch of salt. Then add in your lasagna noodles, a couple at a time. You want the water to be boiling every time you add in more noodles. Depending on your pot, you may have to wait for part of the noodle to soften, so that you can bend it and submerge the whole noodle. Cook your noodles, drain them, and toss them in 1 TBSP of your oil to keep them from sticking together while you put everything else together.

I know it's a lot of tedious steps. But you'll end up with
this lava lamp of cheese and awesome. Hang in there. 

Assuming you're not wussing out, and are actually making the sauce, let me be the first to congratulate you on your can-do attitude. Everybody else can go ahead and skip this paragraph, because it's just for sauce-making winners. Not sauce-buying participation-award-winners. Alright winners, it's time to dice those onions! Heat up the rest of your oil, and then sauté your onion in it along with an average sized person's pinch of salt. Now wash your mushrooms, and slice them. Technically, you could have done this before you even started cooking your onions. But you get bonus masculinity-points for racing the clock, and constantly having to make sure that nothing's going to catch on fire, all while brandishing a knife. After about 3 minutes, add your mushrooms in with the onions along with another, equally average, pinch of salt. Sauté another 2 minutes before adding in the Thyme, Oregano, Pepper, Basil, and the Garlic (Which, by the way, you've minced, again laughing in the face of kitchen fires and severed fingers, thereby asserting your dominance). Stir for 1 minute, and then add in the Crushed Tomatoes, along with an NBA-sized pinch of salt. Simmer the sauce for about 5 minutes, and then turn the heat off.

Crack your eggs into a bowl and lightly beat them. Think more kinky funtime, and less that scene from Roots (That's a pretty depressing link. So take this to balance it out). Then add in your Mascarpone, Parmesan, and half of your Ricotta. Stir until it all blends into a creamy, cheesy goo. Roughly rip up your Spinach, possibly channeling all of the resentment you've been carrying against salads. Add your cathartic Spinach in with your cheesy goo, and stir to combine. In a separate bowl, mix the rest of your Ricotta along with about 1/3 of your Mozzarella. Now it's time to assemble all of the disparate elements you've got clogging up your kitchen!

If uncontrollable salivating lasts longer than 4 hours,

consult a medical professional.

Add a layer of sauce on to the bottom of a baking dish. Then cover with a layer of pasta (This takes about 4 noodles for me. Use common sense and spacial reasoning to figure out how many noodles YOU should use). Then add another layer of sauce, followed by half of your spinach mixture. Then another layer of noodles, followed by all of your Mozzarella/Ricotta mix. Then another layer of noodles, more sauce, and the rest of your spinach glop. Then another layer of noodles, sauce, and the rest of your Mozzarella. Was that confusing enough? It's sauce, noodles, sauce, spinach glop, noodles, cheese glop, noodles, sauce, spinach glop, noodles, sauce, Mozzarella. Got it? Good. Then bake the whole thing at 350 for about 35 minutes, until the cheese on top starts to get slightly browned and awesome. Let it settle for the most difficult 10 minutes of your life, and then dig in to the deliciousness. You didn't wait, did you? Well, at least you've got some awesome lasagna to offer the paramedics when they get to your place.