Speaking of bliss, bliss on a bun….
Meatloaf and Bliss do not a match in heaven make.
Nothing against meatloaf, exactly.
To make matters worse, this recipe is called Stomach Bliss Meatloaf. Eck.
I like meatloaf. Sometimes. Stomach Bliss Meatloaf (SBM) has a secret ingredient – prunes. Like I said, eck. Don’t get me wrong, I like prunes, especially since they have updated their image and become dried plums, and I’ll bet they work some magic on a meatloaf. Still….the thought.
Maybe I am a pru(n-OR-d)e. Bliss, stomach, prunes. Turns my stomach a bit actually.
A meatloaf sandwich, now that’s a delicious beast.
It seems like meatloaf is one of those things people “love to hate.” It sort of baffles me. I mean, I wouldn’t eat it every night, but a nice meatloaf with mashed potatoes is total comfort food. And it is one of the very rare foods that I really love to have ketchsup on.
Sez Cindy O
(I know that that spelling of ketchup is wrong, but it looks so right, so ssssssaucy with that “s” in it.)
>>>>>Adding a note after the fact: I am NOT making fun of the speller of ketchsup. That spelling looks charming to me and appropriately consonant loaded.However, the speller called me on it and called me – jokingly ahem – a midnight snake. Funny.<<<<<
I understand there has been much eating of meatloaf sandwiches around their house recently, particularly by Jon. Cindy had one and was done. Satisfied and done.
A meatloaf sandwich is on white bread, only. White bread from my dad’s bakery, now defunct, is the proper white bread. Firm, not sweet, pretty dark crust on top.
A friend name Elena, someone I knew a long time ago, was a very quiet girl who would go to great lengths not to step on anyone’s toes. When she was a schoolgirl Elena liked meatloaf sandwiches, on white bread, with ketchup. Her mother, not so into being a mother and looking to expedite her chores, baked up a big meatloaf, sliced it all up and assembly-lined a batch of sandwiches. White bread, ketchup, slice of meatloaf. She wrapped each one and froze them.
Each morning Elena’s mother would drop a frozen sandwich, plop, into the bottom of a brown lunch sack. On the first day Elena unwrapped it. Horrors! Bread soaked through with ketchup, meatloaf still frozen in the center. Each following day Elena removed her sandwich and dropped it in the trash.
She never said a word to her mother.
The Lunch Encounter 