Tonight, I was really, really looking forward to dinner.
Jeni and I have this thing where we prep most of the week's dinners on Sunday afternoon when we have the most time to cook. This week we made a Broccolii Cheese Soup, a crock-pot potroast and Meatloaf.
It's actually pretty amazing to see three-to-five dinners in progress as we work in the kitchen.
I make a mean meatloaf. It's good. I have a technique. I can't teach you, you'll just have to come over and be amazed one day. Consider this your invitation.
So, yeah. We were all out of breadcrumbs. I looked and looked, but I couldn't find the breadcrumbs. And then I remembered, theres a whole bag of breadcrumbs in the freezer. (Jeni and I often grind up old bread and heels and crusts and stuff and use the crumbs for cooking.)
I put the meatloaf into the oven when I got home and cooked it appropriately. We were out of foil for the 'tatoes, but I used parchment, which to my surprise did not burn the house down.
After J got home, I served it up that piping loaf 'o meat. And it was _very_ sweet. Like, there was something wrong. It taste sugary and kind of like brown sugar? Gingersnaps maybe? Hard to say. It was wrong. Ketchup and Brownsugar maybe?
"Did you use that bag of breadcrumbs from the freezer?" J asks.
I say nothing.
"Those were cookies."
I say nothing.
"You didn't see the chocolate chips?"
"I thought that was texture."
"Chocolate Texture," she says.
It has been a long time since I've been so disappointed in a meatloaf.
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