I’ve tried Nigella Lawson’s recipes before ― namely while comparing them to my brownie and carrot cake favourites.
Though hers wasn’t the recipe I ended up picking for either of those, they were a pretty reliable second place both times, and I invariably ended up applying some of her wisdom to the final product.
So, I felt I could trust her with hours of my time to make what she calls the “lasagne of love” ― especially considering how perfect her pasta philosophy seemed to be.
Nigella doesn’t ask us to make our own pasta (whose favourite lasagne memory focuses on the sheets?), brown our meat separately to our veggies, or spend ages chipping carrots into a fine dice.
Instead, she wants us to focus our time and attention on what really matters; the ragu (which she bakes for an hour for earthy richness) and the roux (the milk for which is infused with veggie peels) are both true labours of love.
How did it go?
Let me start by saying I halved her (huge) recipe and am glad I did. What I was left with was more than enough for six; two of us finished it in two days, but that was more a case of gluttony than true portion sizes.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I read that aside from the onions, which we chopped and browned first, Nigella didn’t want me to chop any veggies at all.
Instead, her recipe asks us to whizz bacon, carrots, celery, parsley, garlic, and thyme in a blender if we have one ― if you’re chopping by hand, the chef advises you “don’t drive yourself mad trying to get everything as fine as the processor version.”
I was also asked to put my veggie scraps into a saucepan.
So far, so easy, though her advice to mix tomato puree into a glass of milk left me a little baffled.
After the onion cooked down, I preheated the onion, added the blended veggies for five minutes, and chucked in the mince. “I feel I should tell you to remove all the vegetables in order to brown the meat properly, but I have taken to simply adding it on top of what’s in the pan already,” Nigella wrote ― her words to my lazy ears.
Once that was cooked, I added beef stock, tinned tomatoes, and the tomato puree and milk mix (which ended up tasting great in the end dish).
This is the only part I deviated from; my partner doesn’t do booze, so to sub her red wine, I added the recipe I’ve perfected over dozens of subbed-out dinner attempts (one part pomegranate molasses to one part soy sauce, three parts apple cider vinegar, and four parts water).
While the ragu baked in the oven, I infused the milk and left it to sit. This part of the recipe was mostly sitting around ― I watched TV and did some crochet.
I strained it (messily ― sorry!) after 45 minutes, and began making the bechamel.
I will say this overlapped with the ragu’s hour-long bake, but I was able to remove the sauce before the bechamel had a chance to split ― the bolognese sauce is pretty easygoing, so don’t worry if you have to leave it in a little longer to prioritise the fussier Bechamel.
I was alarmed by how watery the meat sauce looked at first but was reassured to read that Nigella reserves two ladlefuls of this liquid to cover the pasta’s top layer.
That’s why you neither have to use fresh pasta nor pre-boil the sheets.
Side note; some commenters found Nigella’s bechamel a little too thick. I didn’t, but I went with a five-minute boil rather than seven. Stick to that if you’re unsure.
Then, it was just a case of assembly, which was easy (though read ahead so you don’t accidentally use too much or too little in one layer).
I found the four sheets and a bit per layer approach worked great for my lasagne recipe, even though I only used half her measurements ― though if you’re doing the half-ingredient thing, you might want to use a shorter pan than usual if you prefer really juicy, jam-packed layers.
I let this sit for about an hour before covering it in mozzarella (I forgot the parmesan until after) before baking it ― at this stage you can leave it for a minimum of 30 minutes and up to two days if refrigerated.
And?
And though the recipe took a long time, it wasn’t complicated and was definitely worth it.
The crispy, puffy top was delicious without being too hard or crunchy; the meat sauce was rich, meaty, and perfectly seasoned.
Infusing the béchamel was a great choice, too. You get the feeling reading the recipe that Nigella only adds extra steps for a reason; this bears out in the final product.
The only thing I will say is it’s not the cheesiest topping I’ve ever tasted, but that’s possibly because I forgot to add the Parmesan cheese before baking it (I grated it on top afterwards).
It only got better on the second day.
If I was doing it again, I would have chosen a smaller baking tray given I was halving the recipe. I didn’t notice a meanness of filling despite using the same sized pan as the full-size version, but there’s a possibility it would have been even more delicious if I’d made that adjustment.
It’s the best lasagne recipe I’ve tried so far, so I understand all the comments saying they’ll never go back ― sometimes, love is worth the wait.