New Year. 2017. I cut the vasilopita at Sunday dinner with the ceremonial seriousness that Greek New Year demands. First slice for Christ, second for the house, third for the eldest. Dimitri found the coin for the second year running, which either means he is extraordinarily lucky or Mama is planting the coin in his section because she worries about him. I would not put it past her. Voula Papadopoulos has been quietly rigging outcomes in her children's favor since 1973, and the vasilopita is just the latest technology.
The house in Tampa felt different on January first. Not better, not worse — just different. The year that took Baba is over. The new year does not know him. 2017 has no memory of Nikos Papadopoulos, and I am the one who will carry his memory forward into every month and every dinner and every batch of avgolemono I make at midnight when the grief gets loud.
Alexander set New Year resolutions. He has a list. Of course he has a list. It includes improving his GPA, getting a better summer job, and learning to cook three meals independently. That last one made me look up from my coffee. My son wants to learn to cook. Three meals. I offered to teach him. He said he was thinking more like YouTube tutorials. I said no son of mine is learning to cook from YouTube when his mother and grandmother are alive and willing. He said okay. I said we start with avgolemono. He said what about something simpler. I said avgolemono is simple. He does not believe me yet. He will.
Sophia's resolution was to read a book a week, which she announced with the determination of a girl who treats goals the way other people treat laws — as binding and non-negotiable. She is reading a book about Marie Curie. My daughter wants to be a scientist and reads about scientists and I could not be prouder if she had said she wanted to be the queen of a small European nation.
I did not make resolutions. I made moussaka. The eggplant was salted and drained and fried. The meat sauce simmered with cinnamon and allspice. The bechamel was thick and golden and I poured it over the top and watched it settle into the layers like a blanket over sleeping children. I baked it until the top was burnished and cracked and the kitchen smelled like Mama's kitchen and I served it to my family and I thought: this is my resolution. This table. This food. These people. I resolve to keep showing up. I resolve to keep cooking. I resolve to keep making bechamel even though mine will never be as good as Mama's, because showing up imperfectly is better than not showing up at all, and the moussaka does not care if the bechamel is transcendent or merely good. The moussaka only cares that you made it.
The moussaka I made that night reminded me that comfort food does not have to be complicated to be meaningful—it just has to be made with intention. This week, I brought that same spirit to something a little more weeknight-friendly: lasagna pinwheels, which give you all the layered, saucy satisfaction of a proper baked pasta without the two-hour commitment. It felt right. Here’s how I made them.
Lasagna Pinwheels
Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 12 lasagna noodles
- 1 lb ground beef (or a mix of beef and pork)
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1 jar (24 oz) marinara sauce, divided
- 15 oz whole-milk ricotta cheese
- 1 large egg
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
- 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
- Fresh basil leaves, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Cook the noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions until just al dente. Drain, lay flat on a lightly oiled baking sheet, and let cool enough to handle.
- Make the meat sauce. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, brown the ground beef, breaking it up as it cooks. Add the garlic, oregano, basil, salt, and pepper. Cook 1 minute more. Drain off excess fat. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of the marinara sauce and simmer 5 minutes. Remove from heat.
- Mix the cheese filling. In a bowl, stir together the ricotta, egg, 1/4 cup Parmesan, and 1 cup of the mozzarella until well combined. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
- Preheat and prep the dish. Heat the oven to 375°F. Spread the remaining marinara sauce in an even layer across the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish.
- Assemble the pinwheels. Working one noodle at a time, spread a thin layer of the ricotta mixture from end to end. Spoon a line of meat sauce down the center. Roll the noodle up snugly and place seam-side down in the prepared baking dish. Repeat with remaining noodles.
- Top and bake. Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup mozzarella and 1/4 cup Parmesan evenly over the pinwheels. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 25 minutes. Remove the foil and bake an additional 10 minutes, until the cheese is melted and beginning to turn golden at the edges.
- Rest and serve. Let the pan rest for 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh basil if desired. The pinwheels will be easier to lift cleanly after resting.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 510 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 860mg