How hard can it be?

Bible study started back up again tonight.  It was really nice to see everyone again and catch up on what's been happening over the holidays.

Originally my small group had planned to have a Christmas get-together after the study ended, but it proved too hard to find a date that worked for the majority of the group.  Tonight we decided to have a post-Christmas luncheon, and one of the leaders offered to host everyone at her apartment.  She said that she would provide lunch and all we would need to do was show up.

It was a very generous offer on T's part, but everyone agreed that it would be fun (and most fair) to have a potluck.  The other leader said that lasagna sounded good and I told her that I would be happy to make a pan of lasagna.  With a shocked expression on her face she said, "You actually make that?"  

Why yes.  Yes I do.

Seriously, how hard is it to make lasagna?  Every box of lasagna noodles has a recipe printed on it.  Even without a recipe it's a fairly simple layering process.  The hardest part used to be cooking the noodles and then getting them into the casserole dish without burning your fingers, having them stick to one another in a gluey clump, and/or ripping them as you tried to separate them from the gluey clump.  : /  The advent of no boil noodles changed all of that and now lasagna is super simple . . . especially if you use jarred pasta sauce.

Years ago, I had a party for the ladies I worked with at Marshall Field's.  I made lasagna and everyone else brought side dishes and dessert.  It was a fun and relaxing evening away from the store and most importantly, my lasagna was a hit.  I was pretty proud of myself when a woman from Loss Prevention, an Italian-American woman with an Italian-American husband complimented me on my lasagna.  She said it was excellent and she wanted to know how I made the sauce.

You should have seen her face when I told her I opened up two jars of Prego.  OMG.  You would have thought I had confessed to serving a tray of Encore frozen lasagna.  I half expected her to dump her plate in the trash.  I don't know whether she was more appalled that I had the audacity to use store-bought, jarred pasta sauce or that her Italian taste buds had let her down so badly that she actually thought Prego tasted good.  Another woman of Italian heritage also had complimented me and then was equally shocked to learn that the sauce wasn't homemade.

So to Prego, all I have to say is "Grazie*."  : ) 

* This is humorous if you know that in Italian, grazie means "thank" you and prego means "you're welcome."