Part 2 (A Motor Picnic continued)

How It Tasted

Warm Veal Loaf

Filip: What’s the white stuff on top?

Egg white brushed across the top of a baking meatloaf makes for, well…a meatloaf with a layer of cooked egg on top. I couldn’t figure out the point of this step while preparing the loaf, and I still don’t understand it. It’s a mystery, I suppose, on par with the fate of Amelia Earhart or the construction of Stonehenge.

On the other hand, preparing this dish did reveal what the meatloaf was supposed to be basted with: fat. Lots and lots of fat. This veal loaf produced so much grease the stuff I poured off should have gone straight into the crankcase of the car.

But removing the fat had one negative effect that, had I thought it through, might have been remedied on the spot…

Sans fat the loaf was simply dry—terribly dry, so dry that I had to rush a pitcher of water to the table to help us wash it down. The taste of the meat was fine, I suppose, but texture was oddly sandy, like I’d run short of breadcrumbs and had to empty the cat’s litter box into the mixing bowl.

Bottled Mushroom Gravy

This commercial gravy made an unexpected appearance at the table—namely, when I realized that the meal was going into a death spiral thanks to the sandy-textured meatloaf. Seeing the forks on either side of me slowing and knowing  what was about to happen I pulled the gravy from the pantry, zapped it in the microwave, and glopped it over the main dish.

Thank heavens. This gravy wasn’t authentic Bettina by a long shot, but it did lubricate the meat enough for us to get it down and, perhaps even better, hid the icky egg white on the top of the loaf.

Cold Potato Salad

Milomir, Filip, and Susan: [crunch] X 3

This was an unusual salad, no question. As noted before there were almost more vegetables in it than potatoes, and consequently we sounded like a family of woodchucks crunching and clattering our way through it.

Probably the cupsful of celery, onion, pimento, and pickles in this salad helped offset the unhealthy fats in the dressing, but the overall effect was…simply odd. It was like no potato salad I’d ever tasted before and (with luck) ever will again.

Fresh Brown Bread

Once again this dour Yankee loaf produced only the most tepid of reactions from the family. Spread with butter it was edible, but the flavor simply didn’t suit us and most of the loaf remained untouched on the plate.

Spanish Buns

Filip: What are these black things?

I’m not sure how it happened, but at some point during the cooking process the currants in these buns/muffins shrank back to their dehydrated state. After a couple of bites my husband and son split their respective muffins and carefully picked out the cinder-like fruits while I toyed with mine and wondered secretly how to slip it under the table to the dog.

Bananas

These bananas were definitely past their prime by the time I got them to the table. I read somewhere or other that only bananas with brown spots are fully ripe and ready for consumption, but obviously DH and SON hadn’t seen the article…they literally rolled their eyes when they saw the fruit and rejected it out of hand.

Hot Coffee

I really wondered—still do--how hot coffee made its way onto this menu. After all, it’s supposedly a warm July evening and, as far as I know, Bob and Bettina haven’t set up housekeeping south of the Equator.

Still, despite the unnecessary heat this coffee provided the caffeine was welcome and, all in all, it made a nice finishing touch to the meal.

Would I Make This Meal Again?

Not without some serious changes and substitutions, I’m afraid. The meatloaf was too dry, the salad too crunchy, and the muffins/buns dotted with (apparently) rodent droppings.

Frankly, I can’t help wondering at the reaction of the motoring party when Bettina spread this “feast” before them. One look, one bite, would have convinced everyone to spring for the early 20^th-century equivalent of a pizza. And those kisses Bob showered Bettina with beforehand? He would have taken them all back in a heartbeat and then spent the next week sleeping in the den.