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Red is for Love
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My favorite foods all seem to have red in them.  This I can thank my mother for.  

I am entering the house, a place I've never been before, which I can now call home because my mother is there.  It is Christmas.  The pot on the stove is boiling water.  I set my bags down and get ready to help.  Not so long ago, when I still lived at HOME I just sat in the kitchen and savored the smells emulating from the dishes Mom was making.

First the long flat strips of noodles were set carefully into the pot to cook.  We gathered and prepared the other ingredients.   Mom got the spices; all Italian, the cottage cheese or ricotta, (preferably), the swiss, and mozzarella; I cooked the red sauce from the jar(Mom grew up as a house wife in the 50's and 60's-need I say more) and the meat.  

Then the noodles were done.  The baking dish was properly oiled and a layer of noodles was laid,a followed by meat than sauce than cheeses, than sauce than noodles; the process started all over again, and again, and again-until the dish was full.  

 Into the 350 oven for 45 minutes or until the cheese bubbled and the top was crusted brown.  Oh the smell was wonderful.  Lasagna!  Lasagna for Christmas; what could be better-left over cheese cake from my birthday the day before.  It too, made from scratch.  

What wonderful smells and memories it made.  This year like the past two, my Mom hasn't been with us.  I went home for Thanksgiving and my 91 year old dad had noodles and asked me to make him lasagna.  I did.