Fancy some lasagna?

  I had a request for the unctuous, comforting layers of Italian joy and, as I do love an orally delivered hug, I’m on the case. For extra fun, I’ve still got some of the tomato and aubergine dish left over from the weekend, so that will come in handy. Which tomato and aubergine dish?, you ask. Let me fill you in.

  My Pa in law had recently treated me to a delicious snack of Persian origin, which I set out to recreate. As tomatoes, aubergines and onions are pretty universal, it is a perfect example of how the only difference between cooking from different parts of the world is the seasoning, as I shall soon demonstrate. Many aubergine recipes start with roasting the whole aubergine in a hot oven. The flesh softens and collapses and, when cooled, can be easily scraped out, so start off with chucking a few aubergines in the oven.

  While the aubergine is in the oven, chop and fry some onions. How you fry them will affect the end result so decide if you’re going to sweat them slowly with the lid on for a softer onion, or fry them on a higher heat to add a bit of texture and caramelisation. Add some tomatoes, (fresh or tinned), and simmer. When the aubergine is ready, put the flesh in with the tomato/onion and simmer for ages to reduce it down. How you season this goop will determine it’s regional style. I’m going garlic, red wine and oregano for Italian and this will make it perfect as a lasagna filler.

  The rest of this story is ancient Italian history. A story you know better than that favourite bedtime story you forced your parents to read to you night after night. Once upon a time, pots of rich tomato sauce, wafer thin sheets of pasta and creamy, smooth, cheesy béchamel sauce all laid down together in a cosy pile, got covered with a shower of grated cheese and baked to indulgent perfection.

  The two-headed ogre was attracted by the amazing aromas wafting through the forest. As he had two noses, he was in even more of a frenzy than you or I would have been. By the time he arrived he was so discombobulated that he crashed through the door and, ignoring the heat of the fresh lasagna, started scooping it up with his bare hands. However, instead of feeding one mouth with one hand and the other mouth with the other, as most two headed monsters would, both his heads started fighting over the dish. To cut a long story short, (Yes, please do. -Ed), he started punching himself in the faces while the cook, who had got over the shock of the ogre’s calamitous arrival, called the police. Though he avoided getting arrested for assault, (cos neither head was willing to press charges), he had to…

(That’s quite enough of this garbage. Wrap it up, you loon. -Ed). And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

Kirk out of his mind.

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