Angeli

I remember that thick, luscious, red tomato sauce-laced bubbling wonder coming out of the oven and thought this, “I am going eat this. I really am going to eat this.” By this I mean Aunt Rachel’s lasagna. Oh, it was good, so good. When I think of food that is decadent, food that really is sinful and requires confession, hail Marys or spiritual counseling, depending on where in spiritual spectrum you fall, I think of lasagna. And Aunt Rachel’s was simply the best. It had layers of soft pasta that seemed to go for miles in between perfect red sauce and ricotta. Its oozed with bubbling cheese and steam. One bite and you were done, it was that rich. But you kept eating and eating. It was the one dish that you prayed before and after the meal: before for thanksgiving, and after for forgiveness.
I love Italian food, all of it, but lasagna is another kind of romance, it is a first, second, and third date with a beautiful girl. When a lasagna is bad, say dry or boring, it is still good. I can think of a lasagna I eat occasionally that is fairly mediocre. I still eat all of it. But when it is good, oh my, I am struck by its sheer goodness. Its dessert counterpart would be crème brulee, its vegetable cousin would be corn (with tons of salt and butter). Angeli Café makes a great lasagna, I mean great. It tastes like something that you could eat about five plates of and it is one of the only foods you can just eat. You don’t need bread or salad or any other type of nonsense. Just give me the lasagna and keep it coming. Now keep in mind, it isn’t Aunt Rachel’s good, but it is good.