NOTE: Karen, Amani, and anyone else who’s a little squeamish about food practices might not want to read this post.

SECOND NOTE: This would not be my methodology if there was company coming over, so please don’t be scared, Sarah.

I’ve been meaning to make lasagna for a while. It’s one of the few dishes I’m any good at cooking.

Step 1: Assemble ingredients.

Ingredient 1: Lasagna noodles. Is there an open box? Yes! In the cabinet. Let’s see. Three and a third noodles will not get us very far. I know I bought two boxes before the tree-trimming party that we ended up not using. Where would those be? Okay, here’s one of them. [The second will not be noticed for several more hours, despite its equally obvious location.]

Ingredient 2: Sauce. I bought a jar of baking sauce back in the fall. Yep, here it is on the floor. Maybe I’d better rinse the dust off it before I open it…

Ingredient 3: Ricotta. Hmmm… I stopped Rudi from throwing it out last week. I hope it’s still good. Maybe I’d better check before I open the jar of sauce. Good, it hasn’t been opened before. Nothing growing on it. Bodes well. It doesn’t smell funky. Should I taste it before I look for the mozzarella? Nah, it’ll be fine…

Ingredient 4: Mozzarella. Let’s see. Here’s the store-bought stuff we bought last winter. Best by … February 2010. It looks fine. Let’s open it up and get a closer look. Smells fine. A little rubbery, but it was supposed to be a dry one to begin with. I guess this I’d better taste. Bland, but that’s storebought cheese for you. Where’s the farmers’ market mozzarella? Okay, here it is. Hmmm… Did it dissolve into yogurt-like goo? Ah, no, that’s just the accumulated water and whey. Dump out the liquid. Oh! It’s little mozzarella balls! Rinse. Rinse. Rinse. Rinse. Is that enough? Rinse. I’d better taste these, too. Hmmm… A little … sharp … but I don’t think I’d call them bad.

Step 2: Arrange ingredients in layers until the pan is full.

Noodles. Ricotta. Sauce. Storebought mozzarella. Noodles. Ricotta. Hmmm… It smells a little strong. Should I have tasted it before we started? Nah. Well … maybe. Okay, fine. I’ll taste it now. That’s … well, I can definitely see why Rudi had to burp the container. Good thing I didn’t wait any longer to make this. Is it still good? Well, I don’t think I’d call it bad. I wish Rudi were here to taste it and tell me. He’s so much better at this. Oh, for Christ’s sake. Either you’d eat it or you wouldn’t. Fine. It’s fine. Sauce. Storebought mozzarella. Noodles. Ricotta. Sauce. Farmers’ market mozzarella.

Step 3: Cook. Either set a timer or plan to make adjustments when a major event, such as Rudi’s arrival home, pulls you out of your book. Cheat on the cooking process by getting him to take the tin foil off the top.

Step 4: Warn your partner that the dinner you’re serving at 11:30 at night might be total crap. If it is, you reassure him, there’s more bread and you can just chuck the lasagna out.

Step 5: Serve with garlic toast. It tastes fine (although apparently as mozzarella ages it gets less melty), and Rudi goes back for a second piece. Score!

Step 6: Do not get sick. This is proof positive that there is nothing wrong with your methodology.

Epilogue: I wanted to fact-check for this post, so I checked the sell-by dates on the farmers’ market cheeses. The ricotta had a sell-by date of mid-November and the mozzarella was the end of October. So they were fine, really. Really.