By Holy Week service, Wednesday evening, New Hope AME. I stood at the front of the sanctuary with a microphone that I held like it might do something unexpected, and I told the congregation the thing about the kitchen and grief that I had been writing in my notes all week.
I told them about the month after Marcus died when I could not cook. About the women who came and cooked for me — Sister Odalys and Bernice and women from the church whose names I said out loud, their names deserving to be spoken. About the night I finally went back to the kitchen, the macaroni and cheese I made at midnight, the weight of that first act. I said: I believe the kitchen is a place of resurrection. Not in any metaphysical way, just in the most ordinary way — that life insists on continuing, and one of the clearest ways it does is through hunger, through the need to eat, through the necessity of feeding the people you love. You cannot grieve and also let everyone go hungry. The kitchen will not allow it.
When I finished the sanctuary was quiet in the particular way it gets quiet when people are holding something. Pastor Hendricks came up beside me and said, that's what we needed tonight. A woman who's been through it and is still here to make the macaroni. The congregation laughed, which is what needed to happen, and I felt the tension in my chest ease.
Afterward, three separate women came and told me about their own kitchens and their own losses. One woman lost her husband six weeks ago. I held her hands and told her to find one thing to make — just one thing she knows by heart — and make it sometime in the next week. Not for anyone, just for herself. She nodded like she was writing it down in her head. I know that nod. I have had that nod. I hope she makes the thing.
The macaroni I made that midnight — that was mine alone, and it always will be. But when I told the woman at New Hope to find one thing she knows by heart and make it for herself, I was thinking about something simpler to start with, something that goes in the oven and asks very little of you while it works. This Cheesy Meat Loaf is that kind of recipe — humble, reliable, and deeply satisfying in the way that only food made with both hands can be. If the kitchen is a place of resurrection, this is one of the gentler ways back in.
Cheesy Meat Loaf
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 lbs ground beef (80/20 blend)
- 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, plus 1/4 cup for topping
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
- 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
- 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/4 cup ketchup (for topping)
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 1 teaspoon yellow mustard
Instructions
- Preheat and prepare. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan or line a rimmed baking sheet with foil.
- Mix the glaze. In a small bowl, stir together the ketchup, brown sugar, and yellow mustard. Set aside.
- Combine the meat mixture. In a large bowl, combine the ground beef, 1 cup shredded cheddar, milk, breadcrumbs, eggs, onion, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Mix with your hands until just combined — do not overwork the meat.
- Shape and pan. Transfer the mixture to your prepared loaf pan or shape into a freeform loaf on the baking sheet. Spread the glaze evenly over the top.
- Bake. Bake for 50 minutes. Remove from the oven, sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup of cheddar over the top, and return to the oven for 10 more minutes, until the cheese is melted and bubbling and the internal temperature reads 160°F.
- Rest before slicing. Let the meat loaf rest for 10 minutes before slicing. This helps it hold together and keeps it juicy.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 520mg