Lasagne Wars. Pampered Chef to the rescue, Arnie.

We're gonna teach this lasagne a lesson or two

You wouldn't have thought lasagne trimming would be up there in the league of kitchen challenges. Just goes to show I know nothing.

A not very exciting rectangle of flat pasta.  That's it really, what else do you need to know? Well it's the perfect vehicle for minced beef and a cheese sauce and at that stage in its lifecycle it becomes a damn fine thing to eat.

I like making the finished lasagne and I like eating it ever so slightly more.  But there are issues.  The trays I cook it in are not the same size, whatever the plan, of the pasta sheet.  Which ever tray/dish I use, neither will take the sheets as they are; there are overlaps, gaps and what ever.  Now you'd think the pasta makers and the dish makers would get their heads together and draw up a detailed list of specifications and get some synergy into this.  I could then take out the sheets from the box and lay them like little duvet covers on a bed of beefy yum-ness.  Perhaps I'm over ambitious in this regard.

But at least I'm not the only one with issues. At the moment I just tend to snap off the corners with finger and thumb and make do. Other snapped bits that didn't snap well, fill in the gaps so there's a great deal of bodge and compromise.  But others have more given this more thought than I.

There's been much chatter of late on Her Majesty's facebook about trimming techniques.
My chum Kirsty is no namby-pamby when it comes to dealing with pasta.  Oh no.  This woman gets out the shears.  I've said before about my admiration for shears when it comes to taking out branches and stubborn undergrowth, but pasta?  I need to be careful in my critique here because any woman that resorts to shears for egg-based semolina concoctions isn't going to take nonsense from a dozy half wit bloke like me.

As a side issue, during a mad supermarket dash recently with seconds to spare, all I could see were the not really value, value sheets even below the level of value range.  They clearly had no intention of cooking even after far longer than normal in the oven. I might as well have used roof tiles.  Horrendous.  Anyway...

So...just when I thought we'd reached a level, it turns out others, like Marianne favour the Pampered Chef Japanese-inspired  Santoku knife.  This is one mean piece of (quote) '...finely crafted fully forged, high-carbon German steel for a perfect edge and sharpness, stain and corrosion resistance, and superior strength and durability.'  It also has a lifetime guarantee and a full tang. In case tangs are a new thing for you, it apparently refers to the blade going into the handle.  Hence a full tang means the blade goes right down the length of the handle, aiding balance, strength etc.

I doubt if the original lasagne makers - which were almost certainly Greek and not Italian as we might think (the main theory is that lasagne comes from Greek λάγανον (laganon), a flat sheet of pasta dough cut into strips) would have ever thought such Nato-style weaponry would be required.

Marianne quote: 'Hold the lasagne sheet at a slight angle on the choppingboard, then 'slam' your big santoku at the place where you want it cut.... it snaps in 2 pieces (well most of the time!)'

It's like reading the script from  Arnie's  'Terminator 3: Pasta, The Revenge.'  Warning, contains scenes of extreme violence and appalling language. 'Hasta la Pasta Baby...'

I'm going to look at lasagne preparation in a totally new light now.  Anyway, I'm just going to settle down  and peel an apple for lunch. I'm going to give it a go with my hedgetrimmers.