Baby Steps To Better Time Management

I have this dream.

I'm standing in the kitchen in a black dress, a white apron, and heels. The doorbell rings; I answer it, kiss my guests hello, take their coats. I ask them if they'd like a cocktail and then calmly wander back to the kitchen.

I'm making a vinaigrette, whisk in one hand and champagne flute in the other, now peeking into the oven, now fluffing the salad greens, now sprinkling a little more salt into soup simmering on the stove, all the while discussing nuclear arms control and cracking terribly clever jokes about Dmiti Medvedev.

And then I wake up. Because in fact, this couldn't have less in common with the actual three ring circus that takes place whenever I have guests for dinner.

At 7:55 PM my hair is still in a ball on top of top of my head, I'm wearing boxer shorts and the Viking's "You Don't Have To Be A Plumber To Have Pipes Like These" t-shirt, and I'm covered in driblets of hardened egg, olive oil and flour. Once I wrestle a dress on and take a couple of swipes with a mascara brush, I spend the first hour after company arrives trying desperately to be witty and engaging without losing a finger.

It's a failure of self-discipline, really. The wise cook, when she knows that she will be single-handedly cooking three courses for a half dozen people, chooses only "do-ahead" dishes that won't cause an hour of pre-dinner frenzy. She then plans out a detailed schedule for the day and follows it faithfully.

But I'm not a wise cook, I'm an emotional one, prone to choosing dishes with a romantic disregard for cost, logistics, and my own limitations of skill.

I'm happy to report that this past Saturday, I took baby steps in the right direction. Although I wasn't exactly 100% ready for company to arrive, I succeeded in choosing dishes that could in theory be prepared and set aside an hour or two before dinner.

The main course was a spring lasagna. I'll be the first to admit that it's not a quick meal -- especially if you're making the ricotta and the pasta fresh -- but it can be 100% finished a couple of hours before guests arrive and need only be heated and sliced. It's seasonal and elegant, a fresh take on a frumpy (though beloved) classic.

I served the lasagna rustically (read: sliced frantically into uneven slabs) but if you want to be fancy, cut it into rounds and garnish it with chervil.


Spring Lasagna

Serves 8

1 recipe basic pasta dough, rolled into 3" x 13" sheets or 1 lb lasagna noodles
2 c ricotta (preferably fresh)
4 c stinging nettles
6 c spinach
1 lb ramps, trimmed and coarsely chopped
1 bunch asparagus
6 artichokes, trimmed
4 tbsp butter
4 tbsp flour
2.5 - 3 c milk
2 c grated Parmesan


1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Bring 2 quarts of water to a boil in a large stock pot; add spinach and nettles and boil for 1-2 minutes. Drain and cool in an ice bath.

3. Either by hand or in a food processor, coarsely chop nettles and spinach. Set aside.

4. Trim asparagus, peel the stems using a vegetable peeler, and remove the tips. Set aside the stems and tips.

5. Slice artichokes and asparagus into 1/8" slices, using a mandolin if available. Set aside.

6. Heat milk until not quite simmering, in the microwave or on the stove.

7. In a medium saucepan, heat 5 tbsp butter over medium heat. Once melted, add 5 tbsp flour, whisking constantly and cooking until golden brown.

8. Gradually add warm milk, whisking constantly and waiting for sauce to thicken before adding more.

9. Add in the ramps, simmering and stirring occasionally for 4-5 minutes.

10. Fold in spinach and nettles, season with salt and pepper, and remove from heat.

11. Butter a 9 x 13 baking dish and lay down a layer of noodles. Spread with a layer of spinach/nettle mixture, followed by sliced asparagus and artichokes, ricotta, and then Parmesan. Repeat layering three more times.

12. Bake in 400 degree oven for 20 - 30 minutes, then remove from the oven and let rest for 5 minutes.