A favorite poem of mine is one by Nora Dauenhauer entitled “How to Make Good Baked Salmon from the River.” I used to enjoy teaching the poem because my students were always a bit puzzled after the first read-through: what makes this piece, which goes back and forth between two recipes, a poem? One recipe is the traditional Native-American one the speaker grew up with, starting at the very beginning of the ritual, “best-made in dry-fish camp on a beach…”; the other recipe is the next-generation, urbanized version. Each piece of the traditional recipe is followed up with the option for someone living in the city, far removed from the sparkling river and rustling trees: “in this case…” Using this structure, the speaker walks through the recipe and offers convenient city-life substitutes for each step along the way. While some may read a sense of loss into this poem, I was immediately more inclined to read it optimistically. The poem, with the juxtaposition of the two recipes, becomes about letting the ritual evolve, precisely so that the values underlying the tradition can be preserved and will survive the generations and changing times. Now, I’m the next generation after the next-generation speaker of the poem: I want to keep traditions and the salmon alive. A little more tweaking required.

To their credit, my first-generation Italian family members have been very good sports about trying my cruelty-free alternatives, foods that I know they never would have imagined eating, like quinoa and “sausage” patties. However, my father’s response when I told him I was bringing along a tray of lasagna for Christmas Day: “Please, just leave the Italian stuff alone. Don’t mess with the Italian stuff.” He was laughing good-naturedly, yes — but I could tell he was only half-kidding. Messing with traditions can be a little unsettling.

But I grew up with the Italian stuff and so, while I enjoy trying out new things, I also from time to time want to make new versions of the special dishes from my childhood. I don’t want to give that up. Not to mention it’s also a great way to share some compassionate cooking with the rest of the famiglia: like any other Italian, I’m all about getting family and friends around a table and sharing a meal together.

On Christmas Day, my husband Seth and I put together a lasagna straight out of Isa Chandra Moskowitz’s new cookbook, Appetite for Reduction. Rather than using a bunch of substitutes for the traditional meat and cheese, we went in another direction that day: layers of spinach and thinly sliced garlic, a ricotta made with blended tofu and roasted cauliflower, and a marinara sauce infused with the taste of roasted red pepper and fresh basil. Both my mother and Aunt Jean approved of the vegan lasagna, which was placed right next to the traditional tray on the table. I had to coax my father to try it, but he too admitted he was pleasantly surprised. WIN!

But what about making dishes that are more deliberate attempts to re-create the originals we’ve grown up with?Sometimes, it turns out that it’s super-simple. For example, on Christmas Eve, I wanted to bring something that the rest of the family would enjoy without the knee-jerk skepticism (or fear). Back to basics. Back to the good old Joy of Cooking cookbook. Stuffed Mushrooms. Everybody loves ’em. So… how do we update? Letting the recipe evolve required only two minor tweaks: we substituted the one tablespoon of butter with one tablespoon of Earth Balance natural spread; and we used part vegetable stock with the sherry to bind the Italian bread crumbs and spices. End result — tasted just as great! Along the same lines, let me mention here a blog I recently discovered, Meet the Shannons. Annie and Dan Shannon have taken on the task of veganizing all the recipes in the Betty Crocker’s Picture Cookbook. Additional proof that these traditional dishes just need a little tweaking to get with the times. A vegan Coq Au Vin? Awesome!

Now, back to the lasagna. As much as we loved the Christmas Day recipe, we recently set out to create a lasagna closer to Mom’s dish. It’s important to me to have a version of Mom’s Lasagna around for my lifetime and for the future Discorfano generations. And when it comes to having a “mozzarella” that melts like it’s supposed to… we’ve come a long way, baby. So if it’s been a while since you tried some of the meat and cheese substitutes out there on the market, please give it another go. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

Does the lasagna taste exactly like Mom’s? Of course not. I’m not trying to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge here. But I will say it comes close enough so that, when I savor each forkful, I’m reminded of my heritage, of all the family members still with us and those who are now gone, of the laughs and the good times, and of how fortunate I am to be part of such a family. And that is what Mom’s lasagna is about, after all.

Check back tomorrow — I’ll be posting my recipe for Mom’s Lasagna, cruelty-free style 😉





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