Fire Roasted Tomato Cream Pasta

Imagine eating a rich, velvety sauce, coating al dente whole wheat pasta, your tongue savoring every bite, wishing you could eat this everyday without looking like you ate something as naughty as Fire Roasted Tomato Cream Pasta everyday...man, that's the dream, isn't it? The Fire Roasted Tomatoes lend a smoky sweetness to this sauce that is perfectly complemented by the robust flavor of Parmesan and ricotta. That sounds straight out of Cook's Illustrated, doesn't it?

Apologies for the lack of posts over the past week and a half. I sort of went into a bit of a tailspin and needed a break, but I am back and onto new and more delicious things!

I have been fighting this internal battle over healthy eating and body image lately. I have a lot of thoughts that I will share over the next few weeks in snippets here and there, but my thought for today is this: As long as I try to define who I am and my self-worth by the way I look, I will never truly know and understand my intrinsic value and nature. That doesn't mean I ignore my health or appearance, but that I realize that the only way I can define myself and my worth is by learning to love myself the way my Father in Heaven loves me. So that's where I am focusing now, and in the meantime, on some days, when I feel like indulging, I will eat this heavenly pasta.

Rustic Spinach and Marinara Lasagna

Before you read this, I want you to know that I believe this is the best dish I have ever made. Like, this lasagna knocked it out of the park and I want to eat the entire pan of lasagna but can't because the fire department would have to cut out a wall of my house and remove me with a crane. This dish is worth every second that it takes to make. I am holding myself back from eating a second piece right now. Oh my heck. It was a lasagna-gasm. Yeah, yeah. I know it's inappropriate. But it's the only way I can do this seductive dinner justice. It is a combination of a few of my favorite family recipes. The flavors are simple and classic, well-balanced and without excess. That is Italian cooking at its finest. It is not about gobs of cheese. It is not about buckets of sauce. Simple balance and classic flavors. This lasagna boasts all of these qualities.

The reason for the creation and consumption of this dish is that there is this other person that lives inside of me. On the outside, I am your typical 28-year-old. I am happily married, pining for a baby, obsessed with my outward appearance, constantly cursing my ever-widening hips. On the inside, there is this tiny but fiesty Italian "cuoca" (cook) that understands that inheriting her grandmother's ancestral thighs doesn't mean she is socially unacceptable and will never be a model, but rather that she is destined to stomp grapes in the Sicilian countryside, and traverse the hills of Tuscany searching for perfect balls of mozzarella. Today, La Cuoca decided to take over and stuff Utah-living Lauren away for a while. And thus, dinner happened. Don't be scared by the fact that I whipped up and rolled my lasagna noodles, or that my sauce slow-simmered for two hours. You can make this too, using as many shortcuts or long-cuts (yes, that's a word), as you choose. And either way,  La Cuoca will be proud of you, and will invite you to stomp some grapes with her and Lucille Ball and all of the other fabulous, fuller-figured ladies throughout history.

In all seriousness, one of the reasons that I love cooking so much is that it makes me feel connected to my ancestors. I know my great-grandmother, Lucia grew up in the hills of Pietraperzia, Sicily, cooking, barefooted and dusted in semolina flour, as did her mother, Calogera, and so many before them. When I am making food, I feel tied to them in a way I cannot describe in words. It is a spiritual thing. And that is beautiful, and is no respecter of calories. And I am sitting here thinking about these amazing women in my family history and their rich culture and heritage, and I feel their influence with me. And that is why I cook.

And now, we best get to discussing the method before La Cuoca devours this delicious lasagna all by herself.