Apparently my life suffers from a havoc deficiency. Something that Spouse and I set out to remedy today with a very lovely (and very tasty) $12 lasagna from Vace and a reciprocating saw.
Alternate titles for this page included:
- Things God didn’t intend you to do with a lasagna.
- The lasagna owes my brother money.
- Read this post or the lasagna gets it.
For those uninitiated, a Vace lasagna is a very fine thing – beautiful flavor, perfectly prepared, and sold as a frozen brick (spinach or meat) that needs only be chucked into a hot oven for 2-ish hours before being a total treat to eat. One lasagna can tastily and thriftily feed our household for longer than we can maintain interest, so some portion of it usually winds up going to waste. Why spend two hours baking a ginormous lasagna when all you want cooked this evening is, say, enough for two reasonably proportioned adult humans?
During the planning stages, Spouse came into the room where I was e-mailing some very important dress-related information to a friend and announced solemnly, “Let me begin by saying that there isn’t really a wrong way to cut a lasagna with a reciprocating saw.”
Indeed. So we’ve done what anyone of you would have done (if you found yourselves suffering from a havoc deficiency), and decided to rend it asunder so none of it lingers too long as leftovers. Really, we’re just conserving.
Step One: Gather the Materials
- One frozen lasagna
- Reciprocating saw
- Protective eyewear
- Assorted clamps
- Ample plastic wrap
Step Two: Prep
Spouse worked in advance to keep things clean by dismantling the saw and shaking out all of the drywall and other bits of house knocking around inside that may otherwise serve to contaminate the tasty, tasty lasagna with the flavor of 1940 Cape Cod.
I made him move the workbench a couple of times to make sure that we had a good lighting situation, which required relocating some very important pieces of scrap wood. I propped them up against the garage door as a “temporary measure,” but left them there when we were done. Shhh. Don’t tell.
Once properly illuminated, spouse used two adjustable clamps to affix the lasagna to the workbench.
Thus affixed, Spouse geeked out with a measuring triangle thing.
He tried to mark the cut lines in the plastic wrapping using a standard-issue black Sharpie marker. The frosty plastic proved too much of a slippery challenge to mark properly (and really, why wouldn’t they have thought through the probability that a customer would need to make clear, permanent markings on the damp wrapping of a frozen lasagna so that the aforementioned customer can cut it precisely in half with a reciprocating saw?). So we resorted to the handyman’s friend – duct tape.
Remember kids, whatever you do, don’t try this at home.
Now, to ensure that our food remains untainted by drywall, and our hardware free of tomato sauce and tasty cheese, Spouse wraps that rascal.
He swathed the saw with a layer of microwave-safe plastic wrap to keep all of the remaining old bits of house knocking around inside of the mechanism from flying out and dusting dinner.
This is where this experiment starts looking a little more like an episode of Dexter than I am entirely comfortable with. I donned some protective eyewear, but it got in the way of the camera, so I undonned it. Spouse told me that I’d be in the “catching” position, waiting for the unfastened half of the lasagna to drop. I pretended not to hear him.
- I should mention at this point that none of this is sanctioned by the fine people at Glad.
- I should also reiterate, somewhat forcefully, that No One Should Try This At Home.
Which means that we can now safely move on to…
Step 3: Havoc
While I’m pretty certain that Spouse is violating some pretty severe warnings in the saw manual about proper hand positioning, this is somewhat anticlimactic, no?
Really, it sounded a lot more exciting when we were planning it. I anticipated shrapnel.
I just love the cheese striations where the saw melted the bits with which it made contact.
The lasagna became rather difficult to clamp at this point, since the halves kept slipping out of their plastic when Spouse tried to reattach them to the table. So, he tried another tack:
His vise turned out to be not wide enough to firmly grip half of a mature lasagna. So we had to abandon our plans to cut it into four pieces. We will still have leftovers when baking half a lasagna, but should be able to get through them before they go bad.
Please note the snazzy headlamp sported by Spouse. This was totally his idea and I did not encourage it at all. He’s pretty irresistible, I know. Hands off ladies — he’s mine.