Lasagna By shannono shannono@iname.com ========== Distribution: Okay for Gossamer, Ephemeral, Xemplary. Others, fine, just please notify me if it's the first story of mine you've archived. (Is there still a "food" archive out there somewhere? ) ========== Vignette, rated PG, no spoilers, no angst, no editing, no nothin' ... Summary: Cooking a favorite dish. ========== Lasagna By shannono She couldn't decide which she enjoyed more, the smell of the spaghetti sauce or the crisp taste of green pepper chunks on her tongue. No matter. Today wasn't day for decision-making. Today was for her, and to her, that meant cooking and eating one of her favorite foods -- lasagna. The recipe her mom called "Cheater's Lasagna," because most of the ingredients came ready-made from bags and cans and jars and boxes. Perfect for a busy working woman with no time to shop and even less to cook. She paused in her pepper-chopping to reach across the counter and flip on the radio for something to cook by. Classical was fine for relaxing, but today she wanted to sing along. An only slightly off-key rendition of Collective Soul followed, accompanied by the sound of the knife's edge scraping across the cutting board. Peppers were chased into the sauce by mushrooms, and that was all the extra prep work she was willing to do today. She added a liberal amount of garlic to the big bowl of doctored Ragu, then reached in the freezer for her handy- dandy bag of pre-chopped, frozen onions. Ah, convenience foods ... Just-defrosted ground chicken plopped onto the skillet, sizzling lightly against the heated iron. The radio switched to Cher singing dance music, and she bobbed her head in time to the beat, stirring idly. The meat separated into tiny bits, joined by a handful of onion bits. Smoke rose from the skillet, sucked away by the vent fan that burred softly in the background, muffled by the sounds of cooking and pop music. The meat and onion were added to the sauce, and a couple spoonfuls fell from the ladle into the bottom of the pan. Dry, flat pasta straight from the box followed, neatly placed so that the noodles lined up like soldiers atop the red liquid. She dumped a whole carton of cottage cheese into a bowl and added some water, stirring until it was thin enough. The white lumps were spread across the noodles unevenly, then topped with a layer of pre-shredded mozzarella, straight from the bag, and a shake or two of grated Parmesan from a can. She repeated the well-practiced moves, watching her creation rise in layers until the pan was full. A last dusting of cheeses finished the job, and she covered the dish with foil and slid it into the waiting oven. The counters cleaned, her hands washed and dried, she crossed the floor again, turning down the sounds of Ricky Martin as she picked up the phone. Seconds later, a bored-sounding but oh-so-familiar voice answered, and she smiled. "What are you doing for dinner, Mulder?" ==========END========== Feedback and recipe requests welcome. shannono@iname.com