The wind pushed at the window like it was trying to change my mind. cold light, sea-gray. and I hadn’t eaten anything real in two days unless coffee and peanut butter count—which they don’t. the fridge was in that strange in-between stage. not empty, but unconvincing.
and then I saw her again. Her Highness, I mean—Martha’s vegetable lasagna. printed, curled at the corners, jam stain at the top. I don’t remember printing it. maybe during that spring when Mae tried going vegetarian for three weeks and I panicked about protein.
What the Original Looked Like
Her version is… careful. zucchini sliced like intentions, steamed until tender but not too soft. the ricotta-spinach mix tucked into place like a note left on the counter. a full 7 cups of marinara—because god forbid it ever run dry. three layers, mozzarella peeking through like it knows it’s the star but won’t say it aloud.
it’s Martha. organized. layered. solid in a way I’ve never been.
What I Did Differently
I didn’t have ricotta. I had cottage cheese that looked sad but wasn’t expired. I added a pinch of nutmeg too—because the air felt cold and I thought maybe it would help.
and I didn’t boil the zucchini. I roasted it. probably too long. it curled at the edges like paper left too close to the stove.
Her Highness would not approve. but I needed something warmer. something with browned bits.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
I started too late. again.
Mae had texted earlier: “Are you okay?”
I didn’t answer.
Just peeled the zucchini with the broken peeler and set the oven to 400 like it was a dare.
Cottage cheese, spinach, an egg I didn’t mean to crack that hard. stirred it with the old green Pyrex I’ve had since college. still has the sticker on the bottom, half-peeled and smug.
I layered it all in a dish that’s chipped in one corner. sauce. noodles. a hopeful scoop of filling. zucchini that smelled like old cookouts and porch smoke.
then I tapped the spoon against the Dutch oven like I always do.
The dent caught it.
that sound again.
Mozzarella. too much? never is.
foil crinkled like an argument. into the oven. I sat on the floor for 20 minutes like I was waiting for something bigger than dinner.
A Few Things I Learned
Don’t overthink the layering. it’s going to shift in the oven anyway.
Let the top burn a little. it makes the rest taste braver.
Cottage cheese can pretend. not perfectly. but enough.
and nutmeg only helps if you need it.
I needed it.
What I Did With the Extras
I left the pan on the counter and ate standing up. Mae showed up later with that look. she took a bite. didn’t say anything.
just poured water, sat down, and grabbed a fork.
Would I Make It Again?
Probably.
on a gray day.
when I miss something I can’t name.
That’s As Much As I Remember
The wind had stopped by then.
or maybe I just stopped noticing.
the pan was still warm.
so was the kitchen.
This reminded me of that leek bake I scorched last winter. less dramatic. more forgiving.
FAQs
Yeah, but it’ll get a little mushy when you reheat. Still good. Just… softer. Like it remembers the oven too well.
Nope. Her Highness says ricotta. I didn’t have it. It still fed me. That’s what matters.
It is. Unless your marinara’s got secrets. Always check the jar.
You could. But it won’t feel the same. The roast on it adds something—texture, memory, warmth. I’d keep it if you can.
Three days, maybe four. After that, it gets that fridge-sadness taste. I’ve eaten worse though. Cold. With a fork. Over the sink.
Check out More Recipes
- Martha Stewart Chicken Soup
- Martha Stewart French Toast
- Martha Stewart Key Lime Pie
- Martha Stewart Lasagna Recipe
Martha Stewart Vegetable Lasagna
Description
Soft and burnt in all the right places. Made me feel full, not fixed.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Roast the zucchini: Hot oven. 400-ish. Olive oil and salt. Let it curl at the edges. Let it smell like summer trying to come back. Watch the edges. They tell the truth.
- Mix the filling: Cottage cheese, spinach, egg, parmesan, nutmeg. Salt if you remember. Pepper if you’re mad. Stir with the Pyrex or your hands—either works.
- Start the layering: Sauce first. Always. Then noodles (they don’t need to fit). Then the filling. Then roasted zucchini. Then more sauce. Repeat until you forget how many times. I did.
- Top it off: Final noodles. Sauce again. Mozzarella. Parmesan. Some of it stuck to the foil and I didn’t care.
- Bring it to a bake: Cover. 375 degrees. Let it sit in the heat like you sit in silence after a long talk. About 30 minutes.
- Let it finish: Uncover. More cheese. Back in the oven until it browns and bubbles like it means it. Like it has something to say.
- Let it sit: I know. You want to dig in. But give it a minute. The kitchen gets quiet. The smell gets softer. That’s when it’s ready. That’s when you are.