Loved the meatloaf notes.
It was a favorite of mine, too, growing up. There were three things my mother made that I could binge on, even now, if they were set in front of me: the meatloaf, the macaroni and cheese, and the pot roast.
She made hers with all beef, not a combo of meats, and I am very happy to report that I asked her for her recipe while she was still around to give it. I'm even happier to report that I came across it recently, in my penciled notes taken over the phone. I'm ashamed, however, to report that I've only made it a couple of times, the last being many years ago -- but delighted to report that I was surprised at how wonderful it came out. So, enough with the reporting. I'm getting it out to make it sometime this week, after Memorial Day. Interesting that BK was uncertain about the bread crumbs. I was, too, but there they were, right there in mine own handwriting.
Meatloaf is a very special comfort food, and it's a rare thing when a diner (the best place to order it) serves one that comes close to being as delicious as one's own mother's. Now and then you get lucky. More often, though, it's a ghastly pale dry imitation of the real thing.
I'm always surprised when I come across someone who hates meatloaf in any form. But those people exist. They're out there. And the world needs to be warned about them.
I got the macaroni recipe, too, which if I recall is basically what's in the traditional Betty Crocker cookbook, but she always did one thing that made it unique: she added a can of stewed tomatoes to it. For years, I never knew anyone who had heard of doing this, but in more recent years I've actually seen it done a couple of times. But I grew up thinking tomatoes were a natural part of macaroni and cheese. I'm thinking that recipe also called for Velveeta cheese (not positive), and I also grew up thinking cheese came in boxes.
The pot roast would have been our goyische equivalent of BK's brisket -- I don't think we knew from the word brisket -- and I distinctly remember some Sunday dinners in which I would sit there at the table after everyone else had long ago left it, stuffing myself with more and more of that wonderful meat. That's probably at the root of my being such a carnivore, and of my passion for the tender stringy cuts.
Good Lord, will you just look at what those notes made me do! I'll shut up now so somebody else can have the floor.
