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Bacon-Colby Lasagna -- The Spaghetti That Stays the Same

Three months. Elijah is three months old. A quarter of a year. He laughs now — not just smiles, but LAUGHS. The baby laugh is the closest thing to pure sound that exists — no irony, no self-consciousness, no performance. Just: something is funny and I will express my amusement at full volume with my entire body. Jayden makes him laugh by making ridiculous faces. Chloe makes him laugh by reading in silly voices. I make him laugh by singing — badly, always badly, the 90s country music that has been the soundtrack of this kitchen since the beginning. Elijah laughs at Shania Twain. He's a man of taste.

Three months in the world and here's what he knows: milk, Mama, ceiling fan, hands, laughter, the smell of cornbread, the sound of Jayden's fire truck reports, the feel of Lorraine's arms, the voice of a man on a phone who says "hey, baby" every morning and every night. That's his world. Small, warm, reliable. The best worlds are small and warm and reliable. The big, cold, unpredictable world will come later. For now, Elijah lives in the good one. The one we built.

At work, the routine has solidified. Half days. Teeth. Masks. Pump. Home by 1. The patients are becoming familiar again — Mrs. Henderson is back (butterscotch, always), Brian is still doing the baby pool (nobody has won yet because the baby's weight has defied everyone's predictions). The office feels almost normal. Almost. The masks remind you. The shields remind you. The six-foot tape marks on the floor remind you. Normal is a word we use to describe a distance from crisis, and we're closer to normal than we were in April, but the distance is still measurable. The tape marks measure it.

The fall screening is in two weeks — still virtual, still Zoom, still me talking to a grid. I'm planning to do it from the apartment with Elijah in the background. If a three-month-old disrupts a virtual dental screening by laughing at his own hands, that's not an interruption. That's content. That's the most human thing any of these people will see all day.

I made spaghetti and meatballs — Chloe's meal, the beginning meal, because Chloe asked for it and Chloe asking for the meal she always asks for is a kind of stability that I crave. The predictability of a child who always wants the same dinner is the most comforting pattern in my life. Spaghetti and meatballs. The constant. The tradition that started at Chloe's kindergarten dinner and now shows up whenever Chloe needs something to be the same. She needs things to be the same. We all do. The spaghetti doesn't change. We need the spaghetti to not change.

Chloe asked for her dinner — the same dinner she always asks for — and I started thinking about pasta the way I always do when I need something to feel solid and unchanged. This Bacon-Colby Lasagna is the answer I keep coming back to: layers of familiar flavors, smoky bacon, melty cheese, and noodles that hold everything together the way a good routine holds a family together. It’s not complicated. It’s not surprising. That’s the whole point.

Bacon-Colby Lasagna

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 12 lasagna noodles
  • 1 lb ground beef
  • 8 strips bacon, cooked and crumbled
  • 1 jar (24 oz) marinara or tomato pasta sauce
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 cups ricotta cheese
  • 1 egg, lightly beaten
  • 3 cups shredded Colby cheese, divided
  • 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Instructions

  1. Cook noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions until al dente. Drain and lay flat on a lightly oiled baking sheet to prevent sticking.
  2. Brown the beef. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook ground beef until no longer pink, breaking it up as it cooks, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
  3. Build the meat sauce. Stir in the pasta sauce, diced tomatoes, garlic powder, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper. Simmer over medium-low heat for 10 minutes. Fold in the crumbled bacon and remove from heat.
  4. Mix the ricotta layer. In a medium bowl, stir together the ricotta cheese, beaten egg, and 1 cup of the shredded Colby cheese until combined.
  5. Preheat and prep pan. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish. Spread 1/2 cup of meat sauce across the bottom of the dish.
  6. Layer the lasagna. Lay 4 noodles over the sauce. Spread half the ricotta mixture over the noodles, then top with one-third of the remaining meat sauce and 1/2 cup Colby cheese. Repeat layers once more. Finish with the final 4 noodles, remaining meat sauce, mozzarella, and the last 1/2 cup of Colby cheese.
  7. Bake covered. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 35 minutes.
  8. Bake uncovered. Remove the foil and bake an additional 15 minutes, until the cheese is melted, bubbling, and lightly golden at the edges.
  9. Rest before serving. Let the lasagna rest for 10 minutes before cutting. This helps the layers hold together when served.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 890mg

Sarah Mitchell
About the cook who shared this
Sarah Mitchell
Week 234 of Sarah’s 30-year story · Nashville, Tennessee
Sarah is a single mom of three, a dental hygienist, and a Nashville girl through and through. She started cooking at eleven out of necessity — feeding her younger siblings while her mama worked double shifts — and never stopped. Her kitchen is tiny, her budget is tight, and her chicken and dumplings will make you want to cry. She writes for every mom who's ever felt like she's not doing enough. Spoiler: you are.

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