In 1998, I made a beautiful lasagna from scratch in my tiny kitchenette at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. The sauce was so delicious that I could've eaten it all by itself with bread and forgotten the rest of the dish entirely. Everything was perfectly layered and I couldn't wait to see the gorgeous cross-section of this thing on a plate. It was going to be spectacular! So as I was lifting the lasagna to place into my specially requested oven, which was where a microwave would normally be, my aluminum lasagna pan couldn't handle the weight of my perfectly thick creation and lost its shape, bent in half, dumping my entire lasagna into the sink below. I was in shock... my friend Margaret Warner (now Schuck) quickly snapped me out of it, scooped up the lasagna from the (thankfully and miraculously “clean as you go” – Thanks Mom!) sink and back into the pan. We then covered it with noodles and a ton of cheese. I was so upset... No. Upset is an understatement. Of course no one could tell the