I have no idea how it came up, but for some reason I ended up telling one of my friends the story about my family’s cooking, and more specifically the history of meatloaf in my family. Meatloaf was a staple in my family; we would have it about once a week for dinner. And if there were leftovers, that my dad didn’t eat, we would have a meatloaf sandwich for lunch the next day.
My father made fantastic meatloaf, and I have no idea how he did it. It would sometimes have cheese, usually have ketchup, and whatever else he added into the recipe. It was so good that even one of our cats loved it. The cat would have his own little slice and he would join up wherever we ate dinner (usually in the living room with the TV on).
My mom was an excellent cook too. Her cajun chicken was fantastic, even the meatloaf cat agreed. This cat could chow down on my mom’s cajun chicken. However, there was this one time that she made a meatloaf and it all went wrong. I am sure that she made the meatloaf before and since, but we cannot let her forget this one time. This one time her meatloaf came out like a brick. We used to joke that the foundation of our house was built on my mom’s meatloaf. It oucld have been used as a weapon. Teeth broke on this meatloaf.
Again, my mom was a great cook. She made turkey, chicken, and some meat cube concoction that I absolutely loved. I have no idea what went wrong with this one meatloaf. I have no idea why my family always brings it up. I have no idea how this conversation even happened today.
And I have to admit; meatloaf is one of those things I don’t miss.