Friday, July 10, 2015

Meat Loaf: a memoir and a recipe

Meatloaf used to make me think about church potlucks, where some people bring foods that  they think should be in your belly. As a preacher's kid, I have forgotten more potluck dinners than you'll ever go to, but one thing I'll never forget is how much I hated meatloaf. As a PK, your job is to be diplomatic, and you literally feel the eyes of the congregation on your every move. I'm sure this was all in my head, but at potlucks I would feel like I had to try some of everything - at least the first time I saw it. So as you can imagine, I ate a lot of things, some strange and gross, some incredibly delicious. A good potluck would have a selection that ranged from Jell-O infused with God-knows-what to casseroles (there were so, so many of those) to fresh salmon plucked from a nearby river (amazeballs). But every potluck would invariably have a meatloaf.
Depending on the recipe and the execution, meatloaf can be quite delicious. But this was not usually the case. Most of the time, I would smell the melted ketchup on the top from halfway down the smorgasbord, mixed with the bland overtones of the dry beef/breadcrumb lump festering below the caramelized corn-syrup-tomato chimaera.
When there was no potluck at church, most Sundays our family would go to church member's houses for lunch. Sometimes people would surprise us by cooking something that was really delicious, but most of the time it was either a bucket KFC or a bland meat loaf with boring sides like slimy canned green beans and creamed corn. Oh, and boxed mashed potatoes. I remember hinting to my parents that I might kill myself at the dinner table at a church members house if a meat loaf were brought out as the entree to Sunday dinner. My brother, sister and I made games out of making fictitious church potluck recipes, guessing what was for lunch or which dishes we would see at the potluck. It must be true what they say about preacher's kids, but I wouldn't really know because everyone who has ever uttered that phrase in my presence just left it at that or said "Oh, you know." I think they meant we are all cynical assholes who make fun of people's food.

I don't know what possessed me to make a meatloaf in my late 20s, after years of shunning it like our congregation shunned members who were not following the rules. Actually, now that I think about it, it was my yoga practice that made me reconsider my belief in meatloaf like an agnostic having some sort of acid-trip epiphany about God actually being everywhere and everything all at the same time. During nap time at the end of class, I started thinking about practical, hearty recipes for protein. It made sense to make a meat loaf, but not like those gross church potluck abominations. I was happy the yoga teacher could not hear my thoughts, because my brain was supposed to be empty right then. But with a few changes, I thought, meatloaf might not be so bad.

Meat loaf with tomato-balsamic crust

Meat loaf
1 pound beef - let it get to room temperature if you don't want to hate your life
1/4 cup flaxseed
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (more if you like to live a little)
1/2 cup diced zucchini (if you're classy you can sauté it)
1/2 cup diced bell pepper (you can sauté this, too)
1/2 cup diced onion (same thing, Liberace)
1 oven preheated to 400 f

Throw the beef, flaxseed, salt and crushed red pepper in a bowl. Smash everything together with your hands like a Neanderthal. Add the other stuff and smash some more. 
Put in the oven and cook for 35-45 minutes or to and internal temperature of 155.
While it is cooking, make the topping

Tomato-balsamic crust

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes

Begin reducing the balsamic vinegar in a saucepan over low heat. Purée the tomatoes and add them to the vinegar stir for a few minutes until the tomatoes have soaked up a little moisture from the vinegar. Set aside.

When the meat loaf is ready, brush the tomato-balsamic paste on top. Broil on high for 2-3 minutes until the top is slightly caramelized. 
Let it sit and cool for about 5 minutes before you start cutting into it.

This guy.