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Bison Meat Loaf -- For the Day the Kitchen Belonged to Everyone Else

Sunday. The family came. I had called each of them Thursday and said simply "come Sunday if you can." They all came. My parents. Patrick, Colleen, Sean III. Meghan, Brian, Aidan. Grace (already here). Sean's sister. Danny and Rachel from New London. Father Donnelly, who drove up from Southie. Linda. Twenty people in our house. I do not know how. My mother cooked. Grace cooked. I sat with Sean.

Sean wanted to see each person individually for a few minutes. They took turns. He was in the hospital bed in the living room. Each person came and sat beside him for five or ten or fifteen minutes. He said something to each. I did not listen in. That was not for me. Danny cried hardest. My father did not cry in the room — he cried in the kitchen later. Patrick stayed the longest — nearly twenty minutes. I do not know what they talked about. When Patrick came out of the living room his face was red and he walked straight to the kitchen and hugged Colleen and she hugged him back and they stood like that for a while.

Father Donnelly prayed with Sean. He gave him the sacrament of the sick. Sean asked for it. Father Donnelly had brought the oil and the holy water. He did it calmly and warmly. Sean was at peace. Sean has been at peace since the call last Friday. He is holding something very solid right now. It is not resignation. It is something else. I do not have a word for it. I am trying to match his steadiness.

Sean III sat on the hospital bed for a minute with Sean and grabbed his finger. Sean smiled. He said "Sean. Be a good man, like your uncle." Sean III said something that sounded like "baba." Sean laughed. Patrick cried again. Colleen held Sean III. She cried. I stood at the foot of the bed and watched.

The kids were with their cousins for most of the day — Aidan and Liam built something in the yard. Nora and Sean III sat on a blanket with Colleen. The kid-noise was background. The adult-quiet was foreground. The afternoon was long and slow.

I cooked very little myself. My mother commanded the kitchen. Grace assisted. Meghan did dishes constantly. I sat with Sean. I walked through. I hugged people. I made myself available. I did not perform grief. I did not protect anyone from it. I was Kate.

At 6 PM Sean was tired. The family left in waves. Danny stayed the night — he slept on the couch. Rachel stayed with him. They would drive back Monday morning. My parents went home at 9. Meghan went home at 9:30. Linda left at 7 PM and went home and wept on her porch, I would learn later. Grace stayed in the guest room. Sean's sister went back to Worcester because she had work. She would come back Wednesday.

I slept on the couch near Sean's bed. I have been sleeping on the couch. I need to be five feet from him. He wakes up sometimes at 3 AM and says my name and I need to be there. I am there.

That Sunday my mother owned the kitchen and I was grateful to let her. I was where I needed to be — five feet from Sean, or beside him, or watching him from the doorway. But in the days that came after, when the house grew quieter and I needed to do something with my hands that was solid and real and for the people still around me, I came back to this bison meat loaf. It is the kind of recipe my mother would approve of: nothing complicated, nothing fussy, just something warm and filling that asks you to stand at the counter for a while and be present. It fed Danny and Rachel before they drove back to New London. It fed Grace. It fed whoever was left.

Bison Meat Loaf

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs ground bison
  • 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
  • 1/3 cup whole milk
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 1/2 cup yellow onion, finely diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp dried thyme
  • 1/4 cup ketchup (for topping)
  • 2 tbsp brown sugar (for topping)
  • 1 tsp yellow mustard (for topping)

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x5 inch loaf pan or line a rimmed baking sheet with foil.
  2. Soak the breadcrumbs. In a large mixing bowl, combine the breadcrumbs and milk. Let sit for 2–3 minutes until the milk is absorbed.
  3. Mix the loaf. Add the ground bison, egg, onion, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and thyme to the bowl. Mix with your hands until just combined — do not overmix, or the loaf will be dense.
  4. Form and pan. Transfer the mixture to your prepared loaf pan or shape into a free-form loaf on the baking sheet, roughly 9 inches long and 4 inches wide.
  5. Make the glaze. In a small bowl, stir together the ketchup, brown sugar, and mustard until smooth. Spread evenly over the top of the loaf.
  6. Bake. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, until the internal temperature reads 160°F on an instant-read thermometer and the glaze is set and slightly caramelized.
  7. Rest before slicing. Remove from the oven and let the loaf rest for 10 minutes before slicing. This keeps it from falling apart and lets the juices settle.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 265 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 410mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 374 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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