Crispy edge wild garlic lamb lasagna
As-you-like-it lasagna, with a million possibilities, all of them outrageous.
I have a very specific, almost dogmatic idea of what a good lasagna should be. The edges? Charred to a crisp creating the kind of crunch that makes even the sharpest knife hesitate. But inside? Soft, saucy, almost unstable, with layers barely holding together. And when you lift a slice, cheese should stretch in unbelievably long, decadent threads. A proper lasagna isn’t tidy; it’s unruly, voluptuous, spilling over the edges of the dish as if it simply can’t contain its own deliciousness.
In my experience, there are two reasons to make lasagna: you’ve got a crowd to feed, or you’re just really, really hungry. And hunger, as any good cook knows, is the secret ingredient to greatness. But don’t rush the process. Oh no! Lasagna is the kind of dish that demands patience - a slow, deliberate process, with rewards measured in bubbling cheese and rich, savory satisfaction.
Oh, and lest I forget, the toil is worth it. The best part of lasagna? Double the recipe, throw one in the freezer, and some future version of you - tired, overworked, wondering what the hell to cook - will be eternally grateful.
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My springtime version
This version is unapologetically rich and deeply satisfying. Minced lamb together with pork sausage, slow-cooked into a ragu is so irresistibly good that if you’re not careful, you’ll catch yourself eating it straight from the pot with a wooden spoon. Then comes the wild garlic pesto: sharp, green and boldly pungent. Foraged wild garlic (ramps), basil, pine nuts, Parmesan, and proper olive oil, (the kind that actually tastes like olives) combine to create a delicious optional addition.
And because indulgence is the point, this dish includes a béchamel straight from Escoffier’s kitchen - silky, nutmeg-laced, luxurious. This sauce is good enough on its own, but with a swirl of pesto it transcends all expectations. Then comes the cheese - an almost comical amount. Finally, a few spoonfuls of that unctuous pesto on top… followed by even more cheese.
Restraint? Not today.
A rich meat sauce - one I could happily eat on its own
An absurd amount of cheese
A béchamel made from scratch with fresh nutmeg
Crispy, crispy edges atop
Saucy, saucy sauce below
Lasagna should carry the mark of its maker, shaped by what’s on hand, what’s in season, and what you happen to be craving. Today, I bring you my springtime version - lush with wild garlic (or ramps) and rich, gamey lamb. But not everyone has access to wild garlic, and not everyone wants lamb. So here’s your invitation to improvise. Follow my recipe for the measurements and method, but change anything you fancy. Consider this a blueprint rather than a prescription, a dish that bends to the will of its maker.
The meat layer
Today’s version is built on minced lamb and pork sausage, a combination that delivers a deep, fatty flavor. But there are no rules here. Beef or pork alone will do just fine, and a handful of chorizo wouldn’t go amiss if you like a little heat. I’ve made lasagnas with minced chicken, even all-sausage variations - both excellent. Want a salty addition? Crisp up some bacon or lardons and toss them in.
A quick note on using lamb - it’s fattier than beef, meaning your ragù will be richer, looser, and slightly gamey in flavor. There might be more oil than usual - no matter, all the better for mopping up with a fresh baguette. And perhaps pour yourself a glass of something robust to match.
The béchamel layer
During a self-imposed, slightly obsessive home culinary school experiment, I dutifully worked my way through the mother sauces contained in Le Guide Culinaire, including replicating Escoffier’s béchamel sauce recipe. It called for clarified butter and veal, and while the result was decadent, it was also an ordeal. For those of us with lives, a simpler approach is preferable.
Infuse your milk with a fat, sweet shallot, a sprig of thyme, and a little salt. Then, make a classic roux with butter and flour, stir in the warm milk and finish with freshly grated nutmeg. Luxury, with none of the faff. For this lasagna, I folded a little wild garlic pesto into the béchamel sauce, but if you prefer something a little lighter you could substitute sauteed spinach or a spring herb mix. Any of these additions will create a lovely green lasagna, perfect for spring.
Speaking of customizing your béchamel, if you prefer a little warmth infuse the milk with fennel seeds, cumin, or garlic. Or, spice things up with paprika, cayenne, turmeric, chilies, or even curry powder. For something more delicate, try experimenting with a little grated Gruyère and tarragon.
The cheese layer
My go-to mix: mature cheddar for punch, mozzarella for stretch, Parmesan for depth. But this is your lasagna, your experiment. Try Red Leicester for nuttiness, an all-Alpine mix of Emmental and Gruyère, or go full Italian with layers of milky buffalo mozzarella.
Get creative
If, like me, too much choice can feel overwhelming, keep it simple. Pick a hero seasonal ingredient and/or draw inspiration from a particular cuisine. Inspired by Spanish flavors? Add chorizo, Spanish paprika and plenty of bay leaves to the meat layer, plus perhaps a little garlic to the bechamel.
Since it is spring, add fresh herbs throughout together with asparagus, peas, and spring onions folded into the meat layer. Or go rogue, and try a spanakopita-lasagna hybrid with feta and spinach. Now that would be something.
You could also fold in pan-fried mushrooms, rich with butter, or maybe a layer of brown sugar caramelized onions - or shallots, for a sweeter edge. Finely chopped sun-dried tomatoes in the cheese layer? Why not? Absolutely.
The pesto (and alternatives)
For my springtime lasagna, I make a wild garlic pesto - sharp, green, and packed with cheese. Be warned: when baked, the oil can run, pooling luxuriously at the edges. No matter. Just have a baguette on standby to mop up this garlicky nectar.
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