I had the great fortune (and I do mean that) of growing up in a home where the preparation of nutritious delicious food made with love and served that way was the norm. I never thought much about it until I started feeding my own family. What we put into our bodies isn’t just fuel, it nourishes the entire being. I would love to think that passing my recipes on to my children and those who may follow (no pressure!!) will pass that love along as well.
My relationship with meatloaf runs the gamut from love to hate depending on whose meatloaf it is. First and foremost, anything called mystery meatloaf is out. Served at a cafeteria? Ditto. Any meatloaf made by a person who is less than particular about the sorts of ground parts than I am comfortable with (innards? animals not normally consumed in identifiable cuts? skin and feathers? You hear me McDonald’s?! … oh, sorry, off on a toot. Though in that vein, thank the gods they aren’t in the meatloaf business. Could you just imagine? I shudder to think).