Showing posts with label Meatloaf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meatloaf. Show all posts

Friday, February 8, 2013

Leftover Meatloaf Sandwiches


The only competition that even comes close to challenging my Mom’s Meatloaf is the lendemain sandwich made with the meatloaf leftovers.  If I didn’t meddle, there wouldn’t actually be leftovers, so recently I’ve been laundering a few slices for personal use later on.  Obviously, this isn’t as selfless as I normally strive to be, but you’ll forgive this temporary shortcoming as soon as you try this outrageous sammich. 


This leftover meatloaf sandwich is soft and buttery, with the most precise combination of savory and sweet.  The meatloaf itself offers a savory tomato base, the cilantro provides a hint of freshness and lightness and the bacon and onion provide a caramel sweetness that pulls everything seamlessly together.  Sink into this and tell me you’re not in a state of immediate elation. 

Leftover Meatloaf Sandwiches

1 slice of cold leftover Mom’s Meatloaf, bacon & onion topping included
1 T. olive oil
1 T. cilantro, chopped
Mayo
Ketchup
Extra bacon & onion (optional)
2 Slices of your favorite bread, toasted

In a skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat.  When it’s hot, add the cold slice of meatloaf.  I add it cold because it’s firmer and easier to handle.  Cook the meatloaf for just a minute or two on each side, until it forms a light brown crust.

Meanwhile, spread the mayo and ketchup on each slice of bread.  Sprinkle each with cilantro.  Add the meatloaf slice and top with extra bacon and onion, if you so desire.  Place the slice of bread on top and give it a bit of a press to hold things together. Perfection.  





Thursday, February 7, 2013

Mom's Meatloaf


I think every man has at least one dish that his mom makes that he can’t live without.  This one’s mine.  This was my favorite Sunday meal growing up.  I remember being a child, walking inside from a day of winter sledding, peeling off my layers of snow clothes, cheeks all rosy, and sitting down to a meal of my mom’s meatloaf and potatoes.  I don’t think there’s much left in this world as real, unpretentious and wonderfully abiding. 


It’s light and dense at the same time, filled with concentrated tomato and smothered in caramel ketchup, bacon and bruléed onions.  Serve this on a cold day with roasted vegetables and horseradish potatoes for some hands-down, hug me hard, wrapped in a blanket, delicious comfort food.

Mom's Meatloaf

2 lbs lean ground beef
¾ Onion, finely diced
¼ Onion, in rings
1 Egg
½ C. bread crumbs
2 Cloves of garlic, minced
1 Can tomato soup

¼ C. Ketchup
2 T. Brown sugar
Bacon

Preheat the oven to 350.  Combine the beef, diced onions, egg, bread crumbs, garlic and tomato soup in a large bowl, mixing with your hands until it is thoroughly combined.   Form the mixture into a large loaf and place in a large baking dish. 

In a small bowl, stir together the ketchup and the brown sugar.  Smear this sauce on top of the meatloaf.  Add the onion rings and top with a single layer of uncooked bacon.  Bake until the meatloaf is cooked through, about 1 hour.  Serve with roasted veggies, your favorite potatoes and extra ketchup. 

*Thank you to Morgan Webb who suggested meatloaf sandwiches.  Each time I make mom’s meatloaf, I’m sure to reserve a few slices for the next day.  Come back to Natural Sugar tomorrow for a killer meatloaf sandwich.  




BONUS Recipe:  Oven Roasted Veggies


You can't go wrong with this side dish.  It's classic, rustic and it seriously couldn't be easier!  Use your favorite veggies or whatever you have in the fridge.

Your favorite veggies, roughly chopped (I use potatoes, onion, carrots & something green)
Olive oil
Salt & Pepper
Your favorite dried herbs (I like thyme or herbs de provence)

Preheat the oven to 375.  

Add all of the chopped veggies to a big bowl.  Drizzle them with olive oil, salt, pepper and herbs.  Toss them so they are all evenly covered in flavor.  Dump them onto a baking sheet and spread them into an even layer.  Bake for 30-45 minutes, turning once or twice, until they are beautifully roasted.