You have to drop the “g” on cooking when you’re talking about meatloaf. I know it seems dreadfully prosaic, but I’ve become a big fan of it lately. Geoff had never eaten meatloaf before the first time I made it here a couple of months ago. He doubted me and thought it would be disgusting. I think he was maybe picturing something out of a tin can. But, as with so many other things, I’ve made a believer out of him.
Tonight I made a pretty traditional meatloaf complete with ketchupy sauce on top and ranch mashed potatoes on the side. I think the potatoes could have been ranchier, but you can’t buy bottled ranch dressing here. I managed to buy some buttermilk ranch powder from Costco, so I only made enough for the recipe, and it wasn’t quite enough, but it definitely came nowhere near ruining dinner.
One of the best things about making meatloaf is the sandwiches the next day. Once the meatloaf has been in the fridge, it holds its shape much better. I am normally pretty sparing with the mayo on a typical sandwich, but when it comes to a meatloaf sandwich, it is definitely appropriate to slather it on. And because I’m a little bit crazy, I like to throw a handful of shredded cheese on there as well. I’m getting hungry again thinking about tomorrow’s lunch. Also, meatloaf in the oven is a pretty fantastic smell. Not quite as good as chocolate, but not much worse.
I really love the fact that I can make something so quintessentially American here in Taiwan. It’s a huge comfort to be able to eat something that reminds you of home. Well, in a cultural sense I suppose since I don’t really have any memories of my mom making meatloaf and probably wouldn’t have eaten it as a child anyway. There is so much that is foreign here, and mostly I love that experience, but at dinner time, I want to be comfortable, and I want to make my man happy. It’s as close to a perfect 50’s housewife as I’m ever going to get. I served dinner in sweatpants, though, not pearls and heels. My man loves me anyway. Wish you could have come over for dinner.