This post was updated November 19, 2019.
If there was one meal I know I could throw down with, it would be my mama’s meatloaf. Hands down, Bobby Flay, my meatloaf would kick your meatloaf’s ass.
Like, spectators would call the police to report a murder.
People all over the globe would feel bad for you and send you burn cream.
They’d probably make a 30 for 30 about me, and meatloaf isn’t even a sport.
Like all storybook meatloafs, the trick is to make a meatloaf that’s amazing right out of the oven, obviously, but then continues to get better the next day in a meatloaf sandwich.
Meatloaf has a bad rap. It’s the fruitcake of comfort foods, with everybody throwing all manner of crap into a bowl, covering it in ketchup, and calling it a meal.
Note, no ketchup. Ever.
Chili sauce, yes. Ketchup, die in a fire.
Ground beef, seasoned with salt and pepper, and toss in the Rice Krispies and two eggs.
I make a big ole meatloaf, because future Brittany wants to eat it out of a bag from the fridge, so two eggs help bind that monster meatloaf together.
Less meat, less egg, you know how math works.
Eighty percent of the chili sauce goes into the bowl.
And then with clean hands, you mix it all together.
That other twenty percent, that goes into a bowl with brown sugar, and you mix it up to make a thick sugary sauce to top the entire meatlof with.
See that sugary topping? *porn music* That’s gonna caramelize reeeaal nice.
Hey loaf, heyyyy.
Fun fact, meatloaf is the only food I drink red wine with. I have no idea why, it just classes up the whole scene of me, burning the shit out of my mouth eating it right out of the dish with a fork, wearing shorts made out of sweatpant […]
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