Back when political conspiracy theories seemed so absolutely bonkers (birtherism, for example) that they made us laugh out loud, a few of us decided to get into the zeitgeist and start a secret plan of our own, the Tenderloin Conspiracy. Our mission would be to feed ourselves and our friends luxuriously in Wellfleet in the dark quiet of midwinter, when almost all the restaurants in town were closed.
Pop-ups might not have been a thing yet, but we knew how much the by-then-departed secret pizza place in Wellfleet was missed. One lesson from that legend was that any funds collected should be given voluntarily by the diners. Preferably they’d be donating to something religious in nature. Like the Church of the Holy Roast.
Our first dinner was called the Pork Chop Rebellion, at which Ed grilled gorgeous chops from Tim Friary’s turnip-fed hogs. I’ll just say that it’s amazing how different grilling is when you’re in a polar vortex.
Still, after that night, we remained optimists. We started planning the next dinner. Paula Erickson was a co-conspirator. She had an onion lasagna recipe that we had to try. It was a little hard to have that much faith in a bunch of onions, but she did, so we did. It was from Cucina Simpatica, the 1991 book by artists and cooks Johanne Killeen and George Germon — the people behind Il Forno in Providence. “Believe me, everybody loves it,” said Paula.
Love: good, because the conspiracy’s second dinner was set for Feb. 14, 2016. An email calling people to the Canoodle Caucus was sent to neighbors and we were underway.
The menu went like this: oysters roasted on fennel fronds; antipasti including frittata, thanks to Paula’s chickens; buttery onion lasagna; beets, oranges, and the rest of the fennel in a salad. For dessert: my poached pears and biscotti and Paula’s homemade baci di cioccolato. Ed would make focaccia, move the tables around, and type the menus on the old manual Erika, giving them a ransom-note quality.
You do have to set aside a little time for making a lasagna, and this one, though it is simple, wants a good hour of your morning — more if you’re serving 25, it turns out.
What would make sextupling the recipe a cinch, we figured, was our plot to make it in advance and stick it in the freezer. It would be its golden, bubbly, lovable self on the night of the caucus without us having to do a thing except to put three big panfuls of it in a hot oven.
Not everything went according to plan on the day we set aside for lasagna-making. The first batch of dough we cranked through my brand-new pasta machine was streaked with black. “Food grade” lubricants applied by the manufacturer can do this. You’re supposed to make a test batch.
We got out Paula’s old machine and started over. We were still laughing when the last long, flat noodles came off the rollers and Paula had one of those semi-déjà-vu moments: “I think I forgot the salt in the pasta.” Onward. We could add that later to the finished casseroles.
The bigger problem was that the freezer door went “clunk” when I opened it to put the lasagnas in. I mean “clunk” in a big way. Like when the door falls off and can’t be put back on again. But there were other freezers in town. I think Paula found room for one lasagna. We put two in the car and drove them down the street. Brent Harold and Susan Weegar were in Mexico. They wouldn’t mind if we used their freezer.
Valentine’s Day was gorgeous, the landscape blanketed white. Back then we had blizzards, but this one was over by morning. It would just mean a little bit of a challenge getting down the hill to retrieve the lasagnas from Brent and Susan’s. We snowshoed in.
Paula was right about the lasagna. I have found myself remembering its buttery, sweet smell much more clearly than I remember what we did about the freezer. In the same file with the recipe is a list of love notes that Paula wrote out to accompany the baci. One of them was Lysander’s line from A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “The course of true love never did run smooth.”
BUTTERY ONION LASAGNA
Makes one 9-by-9-inch casserole
Make the noodles: Note: Homemade are excellent, but good-quality egg noodles imported from Italy, like DeCecco Egg Lasagne #112, will work. Don’t use regular store-bought lasagna noodles: they’re too tough for this dish.
2 cups flour
Big pinch kosher salt
3 large eggs
- Place flour and salt in food processor. Add eggs while pulsing, stopping when the dough resembles large peas. Turn out and knead dough, gradually adding a bit more flour if it’s sticky. Cover and let dough rest for a half hour. (Alternatively, hand mix the dough on your countertop. My favorite beginner pasta-making instructions can be found on Heidi Swanson’s 101 Cookbooks website).
- Divide dough in two. Keep one half covered while you roll the first piece. Flatten the dough and feed it through the pasta machine. Dust with flour as needed if it’s sticky. Fold the dough in half lengthwise and roll again. Repeat four more times. Then roll the sheet once on each setting of the rollers, all the way to the thinnest. Cut the sheet into three nine-inch lengths, dust with flour, and set aside on a piece of parchment paper. Keep going with the other half of the dough.
- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook fresh noodles a few at a time for 30 seconds (the imported DeCecco egg noodles need 4 minutes). Lift cooked noodles from water and gently drop into a bowl of cool water, then remove to a tea towel as you go.
For the onion filling:
6 Tbsp. butter
2 lbs. (4 large) onions
1 tsp. kosher salt
Slice the onions thin. Melt the butter in a large skillet and add onions. Sprinkle with salt and stir gently from time to time over low heat, allowing onions to cook slowly, about a half hour, until they’re very soft. Keep an eye on the onions as they cook; if they start to caramelize, turn the fire down.
For the bechamel:
1½ cups whole milk
3 Tbsp. butter
3 Tbsp. flour
Big pinch salt
Scald the milk. Melt the butter in a small saucepan. Stir in the flour and cook for a minute without allowing the roux to brown. Add the milk, whisking, to make a smooth sauce. Stir in the salt.
To finish the lasagna:
The six 9-inch lasagna noodles
The cup-or-so of bechamel
The buttery sautéed onions
¼ cup heavy cream
3 oz. grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1 Tbsp. butter
- Heat oven to 400° F. Spread a thin layer of bechamel in the pan. Drizzle the cream over it. Lay on 2 noodles, letting them overlap one another, half of the buttery onions, and half of the cheese. Add two more lasagne, another layer of bechamel, the rest of the onions, and the rest of the cheese. Layer on the last two noodles, spread with a thin layer of bechamel, and dot with the final tablespoon of butter.
- Bake 25 minutes, until golden brown and bubbling hot. Cool at least 5 minutes before cutting.
