Italian Meat Loaf
What makes this meat loaf Italian? I honestly haven’t a clue. But the recipe, which comes from Tamasin Day-Lewis’s Supper For A Song, is one I’ve made countless times. By its nature variable, this is a kitchen-sink meatloaf: in the recipe headnote, Day-Lewis says one should “inspect your fridge for this dish, as it’s really the odds and ends of cheese, ham, or bacon that you can change around…” And I have, making it differently every time it goes into the oven.
What makes this meatloaf special isn’t the fancy name, but the cooking method, which calls for a water bath.
Lost you there, did I? A water bath is nothing more than plunking your meatloaf into a larger roasting pan you’ve half-filled with water. If I, Miss Carpal Tunnel 2015, can manage this after a day spent cleaning her husband’s study (ahem), you can, too.
Italian Meatloaf
Adapted from Tamasin Day-Lewis’s Supper For A Song
serves 2-3 as a main course
1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground chicken, pork, or veal
2 large eggs
3-4 garlic cloves, peeled and minced (to taste)
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped
1 tablespoon parsley, finely chopped
1 teaspoon black peppercorns, ground
10 green olives, chopped
1 teaspoon capers, rinsed and lightly chopped
1 ounce grated Parmesan (mine is bought pre-ground from my market’s cheese counter–not the stuff in the cardboard container!)
1 ounce Gruyere or Cheddar cheese, grated
1 hard-boiled egg, sliced
4 spinach leaves, washed, patted dry with paper towel, left whole.
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Lightly oil a 9×5 inch loaf pan with olive oil. A slightly larger or smaller pan is fine. You can also shape a freeform loaf and bake it on a baking sheet. Civilized types oil their pans with a paper towel, while barbarians like me use their clean fingers.
In a large mixing bowl, mix everything but the hard-boiled egg and the spinach leaves.
Gently pat half the meat mixture into the loaf pan. Now lay slices of the hard-boiled egg atop the meat in a manner you find aesthetically pleasing.
Lay the leaves over. If any egg remains, spread atop the leaves (or eat). Cover your leaf/egg situation with the remaining meat. (remember Yaz? I date myself. And demonstrate the random way my mind works.)
Assuming your loaf pan doesn’t have a lid, cover it with an oiled piece of parchment paper, then cover the paper tightly with foil. Place loaf pan in a roasting tin. Fill the tin halfway with water. I find transport to the oven easier if loaf pan/roasting tin are placed on a sturdy baking sheet. Put meatloaf/waterbath in the oven. Allow to cook for an hour. The above photo demonstrates a water bath.
After an hour, remove the parchment/foil cover. Allow the meatloaf to finish cooking 15 minutes to half an hour. The top should brown and a toothpick should come out clean.
Being European, Day-Lewis suggests eating this with fresh tomato sauce and baked potatoes. Being American, I feel massive amounts of mashed potato and catsup are the only way to fly.
Notes:
This recipe is endlessly variable. You can add chopped tomatoes, pancetta, or ham. You can omit the spinach in favor of another green, like chard, or leave it out. If you don’t like cheese with your meat, leave it out. Anchovies can step in for the olives and capers; should they make you shudder, a little salt works, too, but mind your salty additions. A squeeze of tomato paste is nice, or even a little catsup. Chopped onion, scallion, or shallots are lovely, too.
A quick hard-boiled egg lesson:
Take your egg out of the fridge. Bring a saucepan of water to a gentle boil. Lower the egg in for nine minutes. Lift out. Allow to cool. You now have a perfectly boiled egg.
If you live in a drought-ravaged area, you cannot peel under running water. Instead, allow the egg to cool completely before cracking on the sink. Slowly peel. If it doesn’t look perfect, so what? It’s going into a meatloaf. Nobody will see it. Save the egg-boiling water to cook another part of your meal or to wash dishes.
Should you be lucky enough to have leftovers, a meatloaf sandwich is calling to you.
The meatloaf sandwich is a personal thing. There’s mayonnaise and mustard, butter and maybe a spicy element like Sriracha or your secret stash of hot pepper sauce. So spread those things on your bread. If you’re a lettuce type, go for it.
Now, there are two kinds of meatloaf people: those who love the gunge and those who don’t. Those of us who love the gunge feel no need to explain ourselves. We’ll just spread it on our bread, secretly pleased we don’t have to share.
Add the meat. Eat.
