I made lasagna for dinner last night. When I went to put foil over the pan before I placed it in the oven, there was not enough to cover it. My husband was on his way to the gym from work, and he had to go by our neighborhood, so I asked him to stop for foil and I would meet him out front to get it.
He texted me as he left a small market close to our house and I went out front for the baton pass. I asked him to open the foil for me as this can be a dangerous challenge with my limited vision and the cutting blade. He drove off to work out and I went to the kitchen to finally get dinner baking. This foil was a generic, cheap brand and starting the roll was all but impossible. Once I did manage to lift it off the tube, it was so thin that it tore and I just couldn’t get an even edge going. Pieces of foil, in various sizes, were on the counter, on the floor, everywhere but on top of the lasagna. I almost called my husband to come back but instead did what one does when one is faced with a ruthless, evil opponent threatening your painstakingly prepared pasta dish. You declare war.
I grabbed a weapon out of the knife block and I attempted to slice down the length of the roll to get a fresh edge. In the midst of my attack, there may or may not have been a battle cry, I was aware of the consequences of being careless in this fight. Knives are no joke for anyone but for someone with little vision, future hand-to-hand combat could be jeopardized as could wearing rings. All my precise cut did was cause more tearing. Was I working with foil or tissue paper?
Safety has become such a prevalent part of my life since I lost my sight that somewhere in my subconscious I knew to put the knife down. I continued my assault, this time with fingernails clawing to separate the foil from itself. I was tired and had the thought that the lasagna was going in the refrigerator for another night, even though I’d have to cover it with wrapping paper. You may wonder if I don’t have plastic wrap. If you think foil and I don’t get along, I will tell you that plastic wrap is dead to me.
Perhaps my nana or Betty Crocker or Julia Childs were looking down and took pity on me because finally I caught a corner and unrolled a complete piece. Once it got going, I held my breath until I had a sheet long enough to cover the pan. Using a pair of scissors I cut both ends, fit it over the lasagna and put it in the oven. It didn’t take long for the house to smell wonderful and we ate a little after my husband got home. To his credit, he never said a word about the bits and remnants of foil all over the kitchen. He sweetly cleaned it all up while I was out of the room but then did innocently comment that, “Boy, that foil is thin!” when I came back into the kitchen. I couldn’t see his face but let me assure you he saw mine.
Lasagna is a lot of work to make. But chopping onions, smashing garlic, making meat sauce, grating cheese, arranging slippery noodles and the rest into layers is a piece of cake compared to wrestling with a roll of flimsy aluminum. Unless, that is, the piece of cake needs to be wrapped in foil.