As it was my first time cooking in Germany, I naturally decided to make a three layer lasagna that takes over 4 hours. There was some thought process to this I promise. I’ve helped my mom make this lasagna before so I knew the general process and ingredients needed. I also knew how delicious the end product is if done right. Additionally, I wasn’t going to go 0 to 60 and hand them a plate of Mexican street corn for the first time in their lives. Lasagna is commonplace in Germany and my host mom makes her own (probably a more authentic version) of lasagna. So I just wanted to show them my Americanized version.
I understood how much of an ordeal it was going to be so I was prepared. Getting the all the ingredients was definitely the hardest part. Differentiating between crushed tomatoes, tomato paste and tomato sauce is hard enough in English, let alone with an old German man who doesn’t know what fennel seeds are. I made the mistake of taking my host dad to the grocery store with me rather than my host mom. Although to be fair the women working there didn’t know what fennel seeds were either.
I had to get up at seven to make sure it would be ready in time. My host family always eats warm food for lunch and then cold bread for dinner and I didn’t want to disrupt their schedule. I invited my friend Hannah over for lunch, forgetting that she’s a vegetarian. But she agreed to come over at 10 to help cook her own lasagna. All in all it went pretty smoothly. I had a mini panic attack when I thought I miscalculated the amount of herbs needed so I added more sauce to balance it out. Turns out German tomato sauce has a weird after taste, but it was fine once I cooked it.
The reaction: by no means was anyone blown away by my lasagna. The only comment I got during lunch was, “It’s not terrible” from my host dad, which in German is the equivalent of “this is good”. Something about the sauce tasted weird and there’s too many herbs but it’s much better than I was expecting. My host parents didn’t love it, but my host dad has been eating a small piece with his bread at dinner. In an interesting turn of events, I’m starting to appreciate how everyone stops in the middle of the day and takes a break to sit down with other people over a warm meal. I prefer it over the harried afterthought that it American lunch. Sitting with my friend and host family and eating something I cooked was very gratifying for me. In the end, I’m very happy with how it turned out. I haven’t eaten cold bread for dinner since Saturday and it reminded me of home.
BEA'S YEAR ABROAD 