Hunger is the Best Sauce

Atlantic Coast, Nicaragua 2006

A few hours after this photo was taken, it got dark and cold. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and while we weren’t quite miserable, we were in the vicinity. Before we wrapped up in our hammocks to shiver in little bundles on the grease-stained deck, I began to talk about the food I would choose at that moment if I could have anything I wanted: lasagne. It was a peculiar approach to coping with hunger – not ignoring but rather indulging it – but it worked. I haven’t just eaten lasagne, I’ve constructed it, and I described the process in long and loving detail, the wide noodles with their wavy edges softening in a pot of salted water with just a touch of olive oil. The ricotta – firm and pure – contrasted with the slightly silly mozzarella and the rebellious parmesan. The sauce of Roma tomatoes, garlic, carmelized onions, a dash of every spice I could find and two dashes of tarragon, salt to taste and taste and taste, brown sugar and grated carrots – the secrets – already simmered all day and wafting about the neighborhood. I hadn’t even begun to layer it, let alone slide it into the oven, and already we’d begun to feel better.