Tonight I made a huge pan of triple layered lasagna for dinner and even though I'm the cook and I get to taste test everything as I go along and serve myself a huge helping straight out of the oven, it's never enough. I want to eat lasagna until I pop. I want to eat it until my family holds an intervention and tells me I have a problem. I want to eat it for every meal of every single one of my remaining days here on Earth. But, it's a process and who has the kind of time to make lasagna from scratch every dang night? Not me.
So, once a month or so I make this dish and every month I say to myself, "I should have made two pans." Breakfast lasagna would really hit the spot right now.
After the vultures devoured everything and we were all still hovering around the kitchen wishing there was more, my oldest daughter pointed something out to me on the stove top.
The only evidence left in the kitchen that a lasagna had been made was a saucy little heart my ladle left behind.
This just goes to show that everything I make for my family is made from love. My love... of Italian food.