I decided to make meatloaf.
I’d never made meatloaf before but I knew one thing going in; I was gonna wrap that bitch in bacon. Oh yeah baby.
I mix up the meat with some onion, celery, carrots, egg, worstershire, bbq sauce, and bread crumbs and form it all into a loaf shape on a baking tray. “Shoulda put tinfoil over that pan,” I thought to myself. Oh well. There’s no going back now.
The bacon goes on and the loaf goes in the oven at 350F for an hour.
I hear the timer going and take a peek at it. It’s looking good – but the bacon isn’t really ‘crisp’ and I didn’t wrap that bitch in bacon to have it wiggly and gross…I wanted a loaf wrapped in yummy, crispy bacon. I can see that there’s some fat on my pan and it’s getting kinda burnt but it’s no big deal. It won’t affect the loaf. I still have to make some rice and peas to go with it so I crank up the heat to 425F so the bacon can crisp up while I’m doing that.
10 min and I peek again. It’s working, the bacon is getting crispy…fire alarm goes off.
I know the pan is getting torched but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for bacon glory. I yank the battery out of the fire alarm and check the rice. It’s nearly done now. I want to let my loaf rest and set up a bit before slicing it so it doesn’t fall apart. I open the oven door and yeah, it’s a bit smoky but nothing I’d never seen before. I grab my pan and start to take the loaf out.
Woah, there’s a bit more fat on there than I’d realized and the pan had warped a bit and I had to be pretty careful not to spill it all.
I get the pan out and onto the counter and realize the pan is toast. Like majorly dead.
The meatloaf looks amazing though and it’s all I can do to keep from yanking that delicious bacon off the top.
Rice is done. Check. Peas done. Check. Kids served. Check. Rob won’t be home until late so I don’t have to worry about him. I serve myself and wonder how I can multitask something while I’m eating – I’m smart like that. Aha. I can set the oven to self clean because – whoa, it’s kind of a nightmare in there.
I hit the ‘magic’ button, hear the lock engage and all is good. Wait…F I R E !!!! There’s fire in my oven!
I stay calm. It’s just a grease fire right? You’re just supposed to throw baking soda on that right?
I turn off the oven and grab the box of soda and reach for the oven door – bracing myself. It’s kind of a large flame. I yank.
Nothing. It’s still locked. There’s smoke now, I yank again and nothing and for shits and giggles I yank again and nada. It’s too hot I guess and the oven won’t open it if it’s that hot.
I think “Oh my shit, I’m going to have to call 911!” And then the flames get smaller and it goes out. Just like that.
I stop my adrenaline rush, shrug and sit down to eat after opening up the windows.
It’s freaking delicious. I made an awesome meatloaf. Never mind how I ruined a pan, nearly burnt down the house and have an oven full of bacon grease to clean up.
Never mind all that.
I rock this stayin at home gig.
Rock. It. Hard.