groove lasagna

Last night I went to Groove Armada. And it was good. I love live music, I love to have a dance, I love the Olympia. The sound is so good, it's so pretty. And the American lady beside me said she'd been to the O2 earlier that week and it was crap, she was blown away by the Olympia in comparison. Ha. The singer was beyond fabulous in a sparkly gold belted leotard, though we did have to sit through 'Bitches with Wolves' first, and I can't even talk about that yet. I mean... gah. My husband's talented band are gagging for a support slot in the Olympia, and these muppets are getting to play Oxygen? Injustice. They're funny, but come on! I'll tell you some other time when I'm less traumatised by Southside camp, sequins and gold lam-ay (I have no accents on this keyboard! But yes, it was lame as well).

There might be a GA video later, when the revellers awake and upload stuff. If they do, I'll pop it in.

I tempted my brother and his girlfriend over to babysit with offers of lasagna yesterday. I tentatively forraged in the iceworld of mystery and frozen egg yolks that is the back of my freezer and found - more than enough pasta dough! Woo!

I love making pasta. I'll admit I was thrilled not to have to mix it but the rolling of it is a wonderfully pleasing experience. You bolt the pasta maker to the table, take a chunk of green dough (spinach!), and feed it into the shiny metal on the widest setting, and crank, and it's momentarily difficult, and you get to feel like an Italian mama for a minute (all arms and bosom and strong, see pic below). And it comes out thick, and a little crumbly, but flat, and you fold it and do it again and again, and it starts getting more malleable, and longer, and shinier, and takes the shape of the width of the machine. And when you've done that about six times, you put it through each decending setting, feeding its cool smoothness through your hands again and again. And it doesn't stick, it gets silkier, and thinner and thinner, until finally you have a long green ribbon, so stretchy smooth, to cut into pieces and boil for a couple minutes and it comes out all slippery chewy. And then the layers of sauce, and creamy ricotta all messy, and licking the ambrosia white sauce off the spoon, oh god.

And the finished product, so solid and perfect! The lasagna goes cake-like, the fresh pasta so tender and creamy, somehow, and the ricotta sweet with nutmeg against the tangy tomato sauce. Damn. I know I always say damn, but this is a damn-food moment. I only make it for special because of the work involved, and the fat factor, but every time I do, I always think, why don't I do this more often? Just rolling the pasta alone is the most satisfying thing. The last time I went to the Italian deli for pasta flour, I talked to this sweet Italian woman who was astounded I was making it - but it's so worth it. And I got the pasta machine for seven euro in a second hand shop, looking unused. You can't go wrong!

I used the lovely Nick Nairn's recipe, from the BBC food site, but every time I try to bring it up, it loads, then there's a message saying it can't be found (even though it's right there in front of me) and when you close the box is closes the site. But you can't scroll down the recipe when the box is up. A definition of frustration? Maybe you'll have better luck, though I suppose if you already have a machine you don't need my recipe. You could roll it yourself, but I suspect if you do you'll instantly morph into her. Arms and all.

Have a nice weekend, all.