How Do I Loaf Thee?

Deciding that the Kissing Cooks should take on a meatloaf recipe isn’t particularly novel, especially in the grand scheme of dinner planning for any American twosome. A home-cooked meatloaf is as standard a meal as hot dogs and apple pie are representative of this melting pot country of ours. Growing up, there was plenty of beefy meatloaf served, but I’ll admit, I didn’t love much of it. There always needed to be a little extra Parmesan cheese on it for me to come to terms that the meaty slice on my plate was to be eaten—no argument. That’s not to say that the meatloaf my parents made was inedible—they still make it to this day and rigorously enjoy second portions. It’s just that my palette has always swayed away from carnivorous, save for fowl, for no reason more than I just don’t often have the taste for it. Give me cheese, pasta, bread, veggies, and other leafy goodies, and I am pretty darn happy. It’s as simple as that. However, in my childhood, most foods leaned Italian in flavor (with cheese galore), which I never complained about, thus creating an enduring memory of meatloaf. Once I had my own kitchen, and cooking was up to me, interpreting my own meatloaf concoction just never occurred to me.

Now, I’m so much more aware of the groceries that I buy and how to stretch their value to get my money’s worth, especially since Chris and I are having so much fun in the kitchen. After every meal, Chris and I divide up leftovers so he can bring some to work for lunch and I can relive the previous night’s adventure for another dinner. This was definitely the case when turkey meatloaf became the star of this past Tuesday night.

You might ask, how did turkey meatloaf come to be? Well, something essential to know about Chris is that he’s somewhat of a meatball scientist (completely and unofficially unaccredited by any legitimate academic or culinary institution—I am totally granting him this title!). He’s experimented with different recipe combinations at length, combining breadcrumbs with doughnuts and adding hot sauce or brown sugar just to see what would happen. These experiences have extended to our very enjoyable turkey burger dinner from last week (see what those “Smoochburgers” are all about here). So, it was only natural to progress from meatball to burger to grand meatloaf status. I was tickled at the thought of this because as Chris and I grow as home cooks, so do our ideas.

I searched Pinterest for several different turkey meatloaf recipes, since turkey is the official meat of choice for the Kissing Cooks, and I even consulted my mother about the challenge. I already had a loaf pan for future gluten free bread baking aspirations, so step one was covered. After some clicking around, Chris and I agreed that this recipe would work best for our needs—and also, it seemed the simplest, without having to buy too many extra ingredients.

Before I get to the nitty gritty of meatloaf preparation (if there is such a thing), I wanted to share that when I first sat to write this post, I had a mild case of writer’s block. I usually have a cute, punny idea of how to kick things off. My brain was all “Loaf Birds,” because Chris and I are a couple, playing on the cliché of being love birds, and that our main ingredient is turkey. Then there was the “Birds of a Feather, Loaf Together” angle, but I don’t think I could say that title with a straight face and without Chris rolling his eyes. All was blank… until I remembered that lovely Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem (homaged above) and my writing wheels began to turn. Then, I did what any 21st century writer would do when not knowing how to start writing about the glory and pride that comes with making meatloaf. I typed into Google: “the origins of meatloaf” because I knew there had to have been some sort of beginning to the meatloaf mainstay—I just didn’t know what it was. Here’s what I found:

Wowie! Thanks, Wikipedia (a source I seldom encourage my students to use for their research papers)! Meatloaf is tried and true for more than 16 centuries, so how could Chris and I go wrong? The website goes on to list all the different ways how various parts of the world prepare a meatloaf, spanning continents where I’d never dream of eating meatloaf, such as Bulgaria, Macedonia, Greece, and Vietnam, to name a few. After all of these interpretations have been logged in the history books of cuisine, the thought of Chris and me embarking on our very own version, á la Long Island, felt all right and warm and fuzzy on the inside.

As usual we used ground turkey (Jennie-O), followed by an egg, half a yellow onion (which Chris valiantly prepared since my sensitive eyes teared up after one measly chop) (and a whole onion seemed much too much), gluten free Italian bread crumbs (Aleia’s), 1% milk, and salt and pepper. I whipped up the topping sauce, including ketchup (Heinz), honey mustard (Boar’s Head) for extra sweetness instead of the suggested standard mustard, and light brown sugar (Domino) because that’s what I had on hand. As instructed, we poured the tangy and sweet glaze over the top of the loaf, leaving some extra on the side for dipping. During bake time, we cleaned up and prepared the sides: steamed broccoli and gluten free macaroni and cheese, keeping in theme, we thought, with a hearty and classic dinner. That’s when the Riesling (RELAX) was poured and place settings were thus placed.

When we finally sat down, all was perfectly tasty and filling. There were certainly more servings (and onions in the loaf itself) than we could consume in one sitting. Chris was so excited at the prospect of meal prepping the same recipe for an upcoming work week’s worth of lunches. We then stored our leftovers in some containers, plopped down on the couch for a New Girl viewing, and enjoyed a mixture of sugar free white chocolate and milk chocolate pudding (an easy solution for when that gallon of milk is about to expire) topped with fat free whipped cream.

Thank you so much for your loyal support, taking the time to read what we’ve prepared, and following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

Alissa & Chris on the LIRR in January 2017.

As always… stay kissing and stay cooking.

A Night of Firsts

It was a night of firsts. 

I have to start this post out with that absolute and ominous line because it sounds very Dickensian. When fashion and food aren’t on my mind, it’s all about the books. After all, Charlie is my literary boss hero, and I’m in the middle of reading (or rather, lavishing in) David Copperfield. That’s just a little bit about me as we get to know each other! However, I digress… I don’t want readers to be mistaken that this is a nerdy literary blog, especially when our name is Kissing Cooks. This is a nerdy cooking blog, we promise. Keep reading for some food dish. (Warning #1: Puns exist here.)

So, it was a night of firsts. Tuesday, February 14, 2017 was the first night that Chris and I made lasagna together and ever; individually, it just never happened for either of us, though we can easily lose count at the number of homemade lasagna dinners that we’ve had with family and other fine dining companions over the course of our thirty plus years on Long Island, where the notions of making and having lasagna are as present as our accents. 

Additionally, this post marks the first written installment on Kissing Cooks, which is the first joint project Chris and I are sharing in our young, exciting relationship. Also, we’ve celebrated our first Valentine’s Day together this week, which was every bit the romantic and fun experience any couple could hope for. (Warning #2 [specifically to anyone whose appetite for sentimental borders on barely minimal]: We’re a mushy twosome who really dig each other, as evidenced by this inspired social media milestone in our courtship. Please don’t let that deter you from continuing with us on our yummy journey.) 

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of this kitchen-centric experience is the fact that we are a gluten-free couple. Though, I’m a part-time anti-gluten glutton in supportive solidarity with Chris’ healthier dietary needs. However, this first for me is anything but limited when my favorite guy is by my side and we’re going at it, and by that, I mean clanging those pots and pans in cabinets and drawers, preparing as a pair for perfect eats on a somewhat regular basis now. If we weren’t already, we’re totally domesticating each other, what with discussions of kitchen utensil trips to IKEA (handy lists in tow) and how we can incorporate other ingredients into future meals we ogled during our first afternoon browse date through the local Whole Foods Market recently.

Chris & Alissa enjoying brunch at Maureen’s Kitchen in Smithtown, NY in January 2017.

Let’s clear a few things up first. We’re not likely to post actual recipes on here. As much as I love writing about food and feasting my eyes on beautifully photographed, glossy-paged cook books by professional celebrity chefs (Hey Giada de Laurentiis, if you’re reading!), Kissing Cooks is more about inspiring others with our takes on the experience of cooking together, and less about exact formulas for how what we’ve created said dishes. As (let’s be honest) beginner-level home cooks, we love to use recipes found on Pinterest as a reference for whatever our latest meal plan includes. It’s important to mention that Chris and I are not cooking rebels or defying what it takes to create a well-intentioned and delicious recipe, nor do we think that we’re experts in anything involving food. We just love to eat. We love to kiss. And we love food memories. So in order to marry those pleasurable activities, a wordy and picture-heavyish log of our cooking concoctions shall thrive here. What happens in the kitchen certainly won’t stay in the kitchen, at least in our case.

In my own gastronomic quests (specifically baking from the box), I intently read the cardboard container from favorites like Betty Crocker, Pillsbury, and Duncan Hines. Then, after a few trials of chocolate, I’ve tinkered here and there to discover the necessary tweaks for optimal flavor indulgence and well-accessorized presentation, honing my kitchen instincts. Like an outfit a person wears, how one dresses their food and home (like at the kitchen table) help to create more texture and delight for the whole darn memory. Aside from box baking and pantry scavenging, my only other qualifications for just such a project as Kissing Cooks is binging superfluous hours of cooking shows (for example: The Chew, anything Giada does [are you out there, girl?], and more). I’ve studied a wee bit in the world of food (see our About page to get hella jealous of my festive Florentine feats). Most significantly, I have been actually eating food ALL OF MY LIFE (Chris too!)! Not to mention that said lifetime of eating also includes inspiration from my parents whose time in the kitchen while I was growing up has not only taught me the foundations of food preparation and the importance of time spent together at the dinner table, but a lot about how to manage “adulting,” because such a word is a commonplace verb nowadays.

Let’s get back to the lasagna, shall we? As usual, Chris and I co-piloted: he multitasked, managing the foundation to any delectable lasagna dish comprised of pasta (Tinkyada brown rice lasagna noodles), sauce (Prego traditional), and ground turkey (Jennie-O) browning in some extra virgin olive oil. Whereas I prepared a luscious mixture of (the following store brand, budget-friendly ingredients, including) ricotta and mozzarella cheese (both part skim), two large eggs, and all the appropriate seasonings we love like garlic powder, oregano, and parsley (also, this was my first time actually preparing ricotta with a dash of nutmeg—and it was totally worth it, flavor-wise). In between, we maintained with the cleaning-washing-drying dynamic to stay one step ahead when different kitchenware items were no longer needed (a task I take very seriously since my little one-bedroom apartment doesn’t include a dishwasher, aside from my left and right hands). We referenced a helpful recipe from McCormick for bake time and temperature specifics, which worked out perfectly for a hot minute (not literarlly) to clean up a bit more, set the table accordingly, and watch the latest cackle-inducing episode of New Girl, our go-to what-to-do-during-cook-time show.

Once all was baked and rested, we dug into that sucker like pigs searching for truffles… and man, was it good! We didn’t need to prepare any garlic bread or side salad because we just wanted that lasagna—and seconds of that lasagna, to boot! The best part (for me, at least—Chris wasn’t asked his opinion here) is a tie between the actual preparation of the meal and finally getting our butts seated to enjoy it with each other. While he and I could never run out of goofy, thoughtful, or sweet things to say to each other, the precious silence in between each bite and sip of Pinot Grigio (Cupcake Vineyards) meant more to me than any twelve-hundred-plus-word blog could express.

What’s better is that the icing on the cake (or equivalent silver-lining cheesy topping on the dish, again strictly for me) was that there were plenty of leftovers for Chris and me to relive the gorgeousness of flavor and affection for at least two-to-three more meals the following day or so.

We had such a blast. We’re still talking about it, even a day after the fact. We plan on making some version of this meal again for family and friends in the future. I can’t wait to make more lasagna memories with Chris. Also, I’d like to thank our readers (probably close friends and immediate family) for taking the time to share in the development of Kissing Cooks.

As always… stay kissing and stay cooking.