Today, my friends, I will make meatloaf.
Meatloaf. A loaf of meat. I will combine the ground remains of two types of animal with ketchup, worchestershire, crunched up saltines, and various herbs to make a delicious, steaming hunk that will make my man leap over his briefcase with glee.
Birds will be chirping, deer will be cavorting, and squirrels will be racing around my legs in the kitchen to set the table and gently roll the baby's toys aside with their stumpy little legs.
Witch-like, I will conjure the power of my grandmothers and generations of oppressed, under-appreciated female cooks to stir the bowl, which will levitate off the counter in Disney-like awesomeness.
I will look in the mirror afterwards and be shocked to find my hair neatly coiffed, my face in full makeup, and a tiny little pearl and diamond brooch upon the collar of my blouse.
And then I shall post pictures of the process on my blog, detailing for my gentle readers my initiation into this exquisite mystery, this solemn ritual, this most hallowed and blessed undertaking of all of us so privileged to be marked as WIFE and MOTHER.
A meatloaf, my friends.
A loaf of meat.
4 comments:
Please only conjure the power of the one grandmother! Grandma couldn't make a tasty meatloaf to save her life. It was her culinary Achilles heel!
Just remember you can repent and come back to the light any time ;-)
Oooh, I can't wait to hear a blow by blow description of the process. I mastered lentil loaf and swedish bean balls long before attempting their meatier cousins. But this is the time of year for such things, no? I find myself in the mood for stew and shepherd's pie.
perhaps the best thing i have read today
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