Ditch the ricotta and get ready to fall in love all over again — this twenty-layer lasagna stacks silky fresh pasta, long-simmered ragu and béchamel into a surprisingly light, utterly decadent bake.
This is my culinary Mount Everest. Twenty layers of noodle, ragu, béchamel and Parmesan — stacked and repeated — took me more than five years to master. Honestly, six years ago I didn’t even know what the “right” lasagna looked like. I’d heard of lasagna but I wasn’t a fan, mainly because I don’t love the texture of baked ricotta (to my mind ricotta is best fresh, rich and cold on toast). Then I read a parenthetical on an Italian blog — basically scoffing at ricotta in lasagna — and it stopped me cold: what, then, is supposed to go in lasagna? That question sent me on a long, delicious chase.
Lasagna alla Bolognese is grand in scope. At first glance it can look like a broiled heap of cheese, pasta and sauce, but done properly every element gets real attention. The ragu should be simmered for hours. The béchamel (besciamella), though one of the simpler “mother sauces,” still needs careful, separate cooking. The pasta can be store-bought, but if I’m committing I want fresh, silky sheets to support the other components I’ve fussed over. And the cheese? Just Parmesan — used to enhance, not overwhelm.
Why did it take so long? First, I had to find the ragu I loved. People’s bolognese vary wildly — some use milk, some mix meats, some go light on wine — and that’s fine. My ragu is the version I like: meat-forward, deeply reduced, not tomato-dominant. If you’re still hunting for a bolognese you love, Anne Burrell’s version is one I adore. Once I had the ragu nailed, I still had to work out noodle thickness, béchamel texture, and sauce-to-pasta ratios. I had my share of disasters — too-thin noodles that stuck, a béchamel that was too loose, and yes, the occasional emergency run to the bodega for Parmesan — but those mistakes taught me what to tweak.
Believe it or not, the finished lasagna feels fairly light — almost ethereal for such a hearty dish. Maybe it’s because there’s no ricotta, or because the pasta sheets are thin, but the result is richly satisfying without feeling leaden. It’s a twenty-part miracle. Let’s get started.
Don’t eat meat? Try the Perfect Vegetable Lasagna or Mushroom Lasagna instead.
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This is a big project and worth the effort. I recommend making the ragu a day or more ahead, then doing the pasta, béchamel and assembly on the second day. Give yourself more time than you think you’ll need on day two so you can work calmly — it’s far more fun that way. You’ll make roughly twice the ragu needed for one lasagna; save the extra for another dish or freeze it.
People get passionate about what constitutes a “true” bolognese. My version is simply the one I love; feel free to adapt — swap meats, dial back the tomato, or adjust wine and milk to suit your taste. In 2020 I added a new bolognese recipe to the site; I often use that variation now (it uses white wine, a touch of milk and skips thyme). Either will work here.
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped (about 1-inch pieces)
1 large or 2 slim carrots, coarsely chopped
2 ribs celery, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
2–3 tablespoons olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds ground beef (or 1 lb beef + 1 lb pork)
1 1/4 cups tomato paste (from two 6-oz cans)
2 cups red wine (a hearty pour you’d enjoy drinking)
Water as needed
2 bay leaves
A few sprigs thyme, tied in a bundle
Day 1 method — make the ragu:
Pulse onion, carrots, celery and garlic in a food processor until finely chopped. Heat a 4–5 qt Dutch oven over medium-high. Add 2–3 tbsp olive oil, then the vegetables. Season generously with salt and pepper and cook, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are evenly browned, about 15 minutes. (Brown food tastes good — don’t rush this.)
Add the ground beef, season again, and brown thoroughly — another ~15 minutes.
Stir in the tomato paste and cook 3–4 minutes to deepen its flavor. Add the red wine, using it to deglaze the pan and scrape up browned bits; cook until reduced by about half, ~5 minutes.
Add enough water so the liquid comes about 1 inch above the meat. Add the bay leaves and the thyme bundle and bring to a gentle simmer. Over the next 3–4 hours, maintain a low simmer: as the sauce reduces add water in 1–2 cup increments as needed (adding too much at once will make it taste boiled rather than concentrated). Taste occasionally and adjust seasoning.
After simmering you’ll have roughly 8–8½ cups of sauce; reserve about half (≈4 cups) for the lasagna and chill or freeze the rest — the extra keeps beautifully.
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon fine sea or table salt
1–2 tablespoons water, if needed
Make the pasta:
Combine the flour, eggs and salt in a food processor and pulse until a dough forms; it should be firm and not sticky. Add a teaspoon of water at a time only if necessary. Form into a ball, dust lightly with flour, cover with an inverted bowl and let rest for 1 hour. You’ll have ~10 ounces of dough.
Work a quarter of the dough at a time through a pasta roller, starting on the widest setting and progressively thinning (0 → 1 → 2 → 3 …). I usually stop at setting 8 on my Atlas machine for thin but manageable sheets. If dough sticks, dust with flour; if a piece becomes irregular, fold the edges into the center (like an envelope), press flat and roll again to press out air.
Lay the sheets in a single layer on floured wax paper, flour the tops and cover with another floured sheet. Cut the sheets into square-ish pieces — exact sizing doesn’t matter; you’ll tile them in the pan.
Boil several squares at a time in a large pot of salted water for 1–2 minutes (1 minute if sheets are very thin, 2 minutes if slightly thicker). Scoop into ice water, then transfer to an oiled tray to keep them from sticking. It’s okay if the noodles touch briefly.
cranking it out / laying out sheets / boiling noodles
1/2 cup (8 tbsp) unsalted butter
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
4 cups whole milk
1 teaspoon fine sea or table salt
1 clove minced garlic
Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
Make the béchamel:
Melt the butter in a medium-large saucepan over medium heat. Add the flour and stir to a smooth paste; cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.
Add a small drizzle of milk while whisking to keep the mixture smooth. Continue adding the milk a little at a time, whisking constantly; after about half the milk is in the sauce will thicken and you can add larger splashes while whisking.
When all the milk is incorporated, add salt, minced garlic, a few grinds of black pepper and a little nutmeg if you like. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring often, for about 10 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning.
(Cold milk is fine here — adding it slowly avoids lumps and saves an extra step.)
bechamel, ahem, besciamella
1 2/3 cups grated Parmesan cheese
Assemble and bake:
Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). In a 9×13-inch (or equivalent) baking dish spread about 1/4 cup béchamel to prevent sticking.
Arrange a single layer of pasta (patch pieces together as needed). Spoon 1 cup ragu over the noodles and spread evenly. Drizzle 1/2 cup béchamel over the ragu and sprinkle with 1/3 cup Parmesan.
Repeat that pattern — pasta + 1 cup ragu + 1/2 cup béchamel + 1/3 cup Parmesan — three more times (so you’ll have four full repeats), then top with a final layer of pasta (five pasta layers total).
Finish options: For the crispiest top, sprinkle the remaining Parmesan directly on the top layer. For a slightly softer top with crisp edges, spread 1/4 cup béchamel over the top layer first, then scatter the remaining cheese.
Bake 30–45 minutes until bubbling and browned. Remove and let rest 10–30 minutes before slicing.
layering it up / a little bechamel first layer
You can make the ragu a day (or more) ahead; it stores and freezes well.
Assemble the lasagna up to the baking step a day ahead and keep covered in the fridge; bake when ready. Freezing assembled lasagna is possible — many readers report success — but I haven’t personally tested it here.
Small swaps and adjustments are fine: replace some beef with pork, use less tomato paste, or tweak wine and milk amounts to suit your taste. The aim is deep, concentrated ragu, silky béchamel, and pasta sheets that hold everything together while keeping the finished dish wonderfully balanced.
