Or, as we Americans would say, Meatloaf.
I meant to do an ode to meatloaf last month
in honor of Rossella's (a former exchange student) birthday.
But just wasn't feelin' it till today.
There is a giant hamburger in my oven as I write.
The entire house is absolutely filled with that unmistakable aroma
and my memories are wandering back to those crazy days when
Rossella ruled the roost...or at least tried to.
There were precious few American food stuffs, aside from KFC,
that Rossella found acceptable. Just about the only times she allowed
as how she would eat what I had prepared again,
and I knew I had passed muster when she would say,
"you could make that again" would be those times when
I had concocted some crazy things that absolutely would
NOT be being made again simply because there was no possible
way I could recall exactly what I had done.
Oh, that was also during the time when I was into pork tenderloin
It's the other white meat!
It's good for you!
I never did concieve of a way to disguise it enough
so that it could earn a,
"you could make that again."
Who knew, good old meatloaf would win that distinction. Probably
because she dubbed it "The Giant Hamburger" and Rossella
did love herself a good hamburger.
We could visit all the psychological damage done to me spending
a year with a teenager who didn't like my cooking.
That's me, remember,
the one who shows you I love you with my food?
Of course I didn't feel she was rejecting me personally
when she rejected my lovin' from the oven.
Wait, I said we *could* visit that time, which implies we *won't*.
I do have one more thought on the subject of Meatloaf.
Michael called the other day and asked for
"The Luehr Family"
recipe for meatloaf. That got me thinking,
that didn't start out as the Luehr meatloaf.
It was my mother's, it was The Peterson Meatloaf.
But was it her mother's?
Was it The Osborne Meatloaf?
And at what point do our lives become our children's traditions?
Hmmm, makes you want to be a little careful :o)