You Can't Beat Ground Meat

“For good stick-to-the-ribs fare, you can't beat ground meat”
From Better Homes & Gardens Meat Cook Book

I know I promised the results of my marinated-mushrooms preparation, but I couldn’t resist a quick detour into the world of meatloaf.

Earlier in the week, George had sketched out a basic menu plan that ended with “How about meatloaf on Friday?” We hadn’t made it in a while, the kids enjoy it, and it sounded good to me. So as George and the kids worked in the backyard to lay the brick foundation for the floor of our new greenhouse, I started to pull the meal together. I have a variety of meatloaf recipes—including an Asian-inspired version from Ming Tsai and a couple from America’s Test Kitchen. But it occurred to me: Why not go to one of Mamie’s cookbooks?

Meatloaf was a staple growing up, but I don’t recall Mamie using a particular recipe. It was probably just one of those things that she threw together without one. I went to the Meat Cook Book and flipped to the pages on ground beef. And sure enough, below the pithy quote, there were two recipes for meatloaf.

Selecting "Twin Meat Loaves," I deided to substitute pork sausage for the ground veal and pork. Other than that, I followed the recipe faithfully. I understand the need for a panade (starch and milk) to keep meatballs, hamburgers or meatloaf moist, but this one made me go hmmmm? An entire cup of milk? It seemed like an awful lot of liquid—and it was.

Wrist deep in the wettest meatloaf mixture I’ve ever handled, I was mildly panicked yet oddly content. The kitchen was quiet, save for the squishy sucking sounds made as I kneaded the concoction. Through the window, I watched the silent movie of George and the kids as they worked and smiled and bantered. And I felt Mamie’s approval, channeled through time by memories and recipes, as I followed in her footsteps to nourish my family with both food and love.

Even after sitting in the refrigerator for a bit, the meatloaf mix was still very loose, and I was apprehensive as I started to shape the loaves. I couldn’t actually roll them in the bread crumbs as called for in the recipe (something I’ve never done before), so I settled for forming the loaves and then patting on the breadcrumbs on to coat them. With a quick prayer as to their edibility, I popped them into the oven.

In our house, meatloaf gets paired with mashed potatoes and brown gravy. I had already peeled and diced the potatoes and covered them with cold water. But before preparing them in my usual fashion, I decided to consult 1963 for a “recipe.” Not surprisingly, the Vegetable Cook Book had a chapter on potatoes. But I was shocked to see that the ingredient list for both “Fluffy Potatoes” and “Company Potatoes” began with Instant Mashed Potatoes. I guess the convenience of “instant” ingredients was en vogue in the 60s.

My mashed potatoes are pretty straightforward, prepared with butter, sour cream, salt and pepper. I sometimes throw in some cheese (don’t tell Leland!), so I was intrigued with the recipe for “Fluffy Potatoes.” The egg yolks added a distinct richness to the potatoes (don’t tell my doctor!) and the stiffly beaten egg whites folded in at the end did lighten the texture.

My hungry crew came in from outside and washed up, the wonderful aromas bringing them right to the dinner table. We dished up and dug in, and we were all impressed with the results. The meatloaf was tender, flavorful and juicy. The bread crumb coating gave it a delicate crust, and the drizzle of chili sauce added a nice tang. The potatoes were creamy if not “fluffy” (maybe that only works with the instant variety), and Natalie really liked the crispy baked top. Leland, on the other hand, was excited about the prospect of meatloaf sandwiches in his future.

Bonus: there are enough potatoes left over for a cottage pie, rumored to be a favorite meal of Prince William.

Mushroom update:

I continue my search for the perfect "button" mushrooms. For Mamie's appetizer, they should measure about one cubic inch. There are plenty of large ones out there—great for stuffing, as my boss Randy points out. And medium-sized ones—perfect for slicing or sautéing—abound. But the button mushroom remains elusive. I may have to resort to quartering larger ones. One way or the other, I’ll dish them up soon and let you know the results.