As of recently I have came to realize that my mother is actually quite the cook. It could have been the years of preparing meals for her family, it must have been because I never considered her a good cook while eating her meatloaf at age six. Though when I think of home, meatloaf comes to mind. Her specialty: mashed potatoes and that meatloaf coated in ketchup that you could cut with a fork. About a week ago I found myself at one of the fine dining halls here at Ohio University, and to my luck I see meatloaf and could that be mashed potatoes being served right next to this mighty meat dish? Why yes, it was. Immediately, without much consideration at all, I grabbed myself a serving of nostalgia in meat form. Alas, my expectations were not met. For mothers cooking far surpasses the university's.
Would this be a source of pride? Absolutely. This certain dish represents simple living. It represents my middle-class upbringing. It’s no lobster dinner, but it most certainly can satisfy my appetite, anytime. Hell, I’d even go as far as saying that my excitement reaches that of the excitement that would arise from hearing I’ll be having that fanciful lobster dinner. But I must mention that the side dishes are vital with serving meatloaf, side dishes like wax green beans and creamy mashed potatoes are extremely flattering for this glistening in ketchup, blob of meat. Meatloaf is what I call home, so call this an ode to the almighty meatloaf, for I love everything you’re about.
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