Meat Loaf and Gramma

Making meat loaf the other day, I was reminded of one of my first experiences with meat loaf.  Meat Loaf always conjures up memories of thrift, doing more with less, taking a half a pound of hamburger (the cheapest) and putting in as much stuff in to it to feed a family of four or six; maybe more, and then having enough left over for meat loaf sandwiches.  I'm sure it came into being across kitchens in the U.S. during the Depression;  then for decades after into the 60's & 70's.  Now it's "Comfort Food" and you can purchase frozen microwave meals with Meat Loaf and Potatoes so those of the newer generation that missed out on REAL meat loaf, can have a instant prepared meat loaf meal.  Sort of.  

Yeah, I may on occasion, buy the microwave Marie Callendar Meat Loaf dinner, when I feel guilty that I didn't prepare the home cooked version.  And by the way, that one is the best.  But I do; at least a couple times a year, make the meat loaf that I remember growing up with. 

Actually, I think that Meat Loaf is a gourmet type of terrine.  In the days of Julia Child, terrines were the rage.  Salmon terrains, veal terrines,  and then there was meat loaf.  In the Good Housekeeping cookbooks from the 60's  they would use a combination of pork, veal and sirloin, and add exotic ingredients like real french bread croquettes that they had created from french bread, seared in olive oil, garlic, toasted and crushed.  In our house, we used the 3 or  4 slices of old Eddy's white bread that included the end parts that no one would eat. Same thing? N'est pas?

The meat loaf story and Gramma is a story that my sister and I shared for many years.  My grandparents on my Dad's side were our only grandparents. My mom lost her mother in high school, and  then her dad shortly after graduating from college.   Living in a deaf school dorm for most of her life, my mom's family life was distant; perhaps non-existant. There are just vague snippets of her life with her parents.  My dad's life was a little different. He too, spent most of  his time in a deaf school dormitory; but he would return home on the train to visit his parents for summer and  holidays.  He always said his Norwegian mother made the best home cooked meals. My Hoosier mom could never measure up.

We really never "knew" our grandparents that well. Compared to today, when grandparents are a phone call away, a text away, Skype, Facebook, a short visit away... we  saw Gramma and Grandpa maybe  four times before I was 6 years old.  That summer, my sister and I "got" to spend about two weeks with Gramma and Grandpa. 

We took the train; which probably was the last time the train left this town. They closed the tracks that we rode on shortly afterward. We headed 10 hours east to the far northeastern corner of Montana. Somehow I remember feeling; that for me-this modern child with polyester orange shorts and PF Flyers, was headed to a prior century.  It sort of was.   While my hometown was surging with growth and population; it seemed like that distant corner of my state was somewhat burdened by drought, population loss and just sort of lost in time. 

I remember being at Gramma's and Grandpa house. Again, we didn't know these people that well. And they really didn't know us.  We spent days trying to re-acquaint ourselves. We spent days finding the white kitty's that  hid in Grandpa's shed, walking around Grandma's garden, getting our hair washed with rainwater that Grandma collected in the rain barrel beneath her downspout. Remember I said, I felt like I went back in time about 100 years?  Yeah.  And one day, she said we would have our lunch outside. 

Gramma made these little wax paper bundles with white bread-cold meat loaf slices in them. Of course, being a child of the city, and my mom was all progressive and that, she served us Peanut Butter/Jelly, Velveeta Cheese or Oscar Mayer Bologna sandwiches on White Eddy's Bread. I had never seen a meat loaf sandwich. And this one was on stale white, huge crusty bread with crusty burnt pieces of meat loaf inside.  We tried.  I'm sure we were hungry.

So we ate the other stuff that she brought. Pickles, some fruit, but nah... that meat loaf sandwich. We couldn't do it.  So we're outside. No dog to bribe, no place to hide it, because she was out in her garden all day.  So I was wandering around trying to find a place.  I found a perfect spot.  Gramma's bird bath.  Plastic noveau decor with a dish bowl that you could lift apart from the stand.  Voila!   I stashed the un-eaten, inedible parts of our meat loaf sandwiches down the pipe of the bird bath.    Replaced... and we were all done. Literally. 

Of course, you know the rest.  We didn't get away with it. Somehow the truth was told, and tears flowed.  Something about being punished by Jesus because he was watching us, and a lip that was pouting out ready to be pecked off by a bird.  I'm sure there was a big lesson in there; like "eat what the Lord provided you", etc..etc.. So yes, meat loaf sandwiches are a traumatic memory for me. And to this day, my sister and I have never forgotten that trip to Gramma's and the meat loaf sandwich.