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Cooking with Steph: Poverty-Chic Mexican Lasagna

Monday, April 2, 2012

One of my 6,432 literary goals is to write a "cookbook" with my friend, Emily. It's going to have really bad, pathetic recipes, like, "How to Scrape Creeping Mold Off Graham Crackers and Proceed," "How to Spread Sour Cream On Everything, and We Do Mean Everything," and "How to Melt Crystallized Heath Bar Crunch Ice Cream from the Back of the Freezer Into Your Coffee When You Run Out of International Delight Creamer and Are Too Bloated To Show Your Face In a Grocery Store."

We've written a handful of these gems, and I think I came up with another last night. Back up the money truck, publishers!

Poverty-Chic Mexican Lasagna, in 14 Easy Steps.

First, bask in a shot of my actual fridge and its "contents." Note: this was taken a week ago, and now the bacon and the salad the Disney/Pixar Cars 2 juice box are gone, leaving even less.

1.  Open fridge. Examine contents. Discover Diet Cokes, one "churro-flavored" yogurt you bought on a whim last month but just can't get excited about, a strange jar of jelly, some cheese and three stale flour tortillas.

2. Open freezer. Discover frozen package of ground beef. Since you are an informed consumer, consider fact that beef probably is 67 percent pink slime. Decide pink is a lovely color. Drop frozen chunk of Pink Slime Beef in microwave, defrost until edges start to turn blackish.

3. Make Pink Slime Beef in skillet. Add 99-cent pack of seasonings labeled "TACO MIX" found in pantry behind half-eaten chocolate Easter bunny.

4. Dump in can of corn, stored safely on shelf with other non-perishables.

5. Realize this will be dry and gross. Go back in fridge. Push slightly to right old bowl of pasta you are afraid to look inside of. Discover BRAND NEW JAR OF SALSA! Do happy dance. Sing Beyonce's Love on Top, but replace "love" with "Mexican lasagna."

6.  Slice stale tortillas into strips, using pizza cutter. ENJOY THIS STEP BECAUSE IT'S KIND OF FUN. Then, raise your standards for fun. Seriously, get out more. 

7. Layer salsa, stale tortilla strips, Pink Slime Beef Corn Thing, cheese. Repeat.

8. Turn oven on to something, put it in for some amount of time.

9. Realize some sour cream would make this.

10. Text boyfriend, who is out running a non-food related errand. Some sour cream would make this...

11. Catch up on your shows. That DVR isn't going to clear itself.

12. Take Poverty-Chic Mexican Lasagna out of oven when boyfriend returns with sour cream. Serve with so much sour cream, you can't see the top.

13. Sing, "Finally, you put my sour cream on top!" Ignore anyone who says you cannot reach your dreams of living in Beyonce's garden shed. Haters gon' hate.

14. Serve with side salad, or scoop of strange jelly. Serve churro yogurt for dessert, but let someone else try it first and watch for facial ticks. Enjoy!

Here is a picture. I forgot to take one when I made it, so this is a shot of the leftovers in the pan, after they had congealed in the fridge overnight. The lasagna looks like brain spillage after the zombie invasion's last victim is claimed. But it tasted super great, I swear. As Stephen Colbert says, I Am America, And So Can You!

Come to think of it, it might be too nice for the cookbook.


  1. Words can't express my feelings for this recipe. Just know that if you and Emily write the book, I will buy SEVERAL copies. :)

  2. Haha. AWESOME, Arleen! That will put our total sales at "several." :)