From the author of Robicelli's: A Love Story with Cupcakes. "Nothing says Christmas to me quite like lasagna. I know it doesn't sound super traditional to most people, but for Italians from Brooklyn, every meal starts with pasta, and every major holiday starts with one that normally too much of a pain in the butt to make every Sunday. For us, lasagna started two days ahead when my grandmother would start the gravy — a tomato sauce full of pork shoulder, braciole, sausage, and meatballs that simmers for a minimum of eight hours. The next day, the lasagna would be assembled, baked, and then chilled, as with lasagna a 24-hour rest period is essential so the flavors and textures meld. Then finally, the day of, we'd finish cooking in a hot oven, preferably burning the corners just enough to my liking. No one would ever eat the ham, or turkey, or whatever — we were always too full from the lasagna."