I eat a tomato lasagna about twice a year. When it appears in caveman portions, as it usually does, the sight of it fills me with a kind of anticipatory fatigue. Oh, no… Am I really up for this? It doesn’t have to be this way. A Ligurian lasagna redolent of basil and pine nuts is seductively lighter, a Wilma Flintstone to Fred’s red version. No need to clean the Augean stables or capture the Cretan bull to work up an appetite before you can eat it. Ordinary hunger will do just fine for Lasagna with Pistachio Pesto and Prosciutto.