In the past I had seen non, or faux, cakes. They were cakes that were not cakes. Things that were deceptive, like cakes that were really made of sandwiches, or the meat cake.
One day last week, Brad and I decided to embark on the path of making a meatloaf cake. It seemed like something fun, and fairly easy to do, plus we both like meatloaf, and we had to try out our new spring-form pan.
I made the meatloaf mix like usual, meat (ground beef), eggs, bread crumbs, garlic, onion powder, and a super-secret seasoning. Thus mixed, I gingerly pressed the meat mixture into the pan and prayed to the meatloaf gods for even cooking, and tasty meat. Prayer completed, I topped the meat mush with ketchup, and into the oven it went.
About an hour and a half later, the intoxicating smell of cooking beef wafted into the living room. The smell was exquisite, causing me to hallucinate that the enemies I was killing on Halo were joints of mutton and other meaty delights. It was distracting to say the least.
In preparation for the feast to come I sent Brad to the kitchen to start the mashed potatoes.
Another 15 minutes later and it was time to pull my creation out of the oven. It was beautiful and terrible. I knew, without a doubt, that this was the prettiest meat loaf in all of known creation. All other bread shaped meat dishes quaked in fear and awe.
We let it cool and then topped it, frosting style, with the mashed potatoes. A hasty ketchup decoration later, and viola!
Trepidatiously, we approached the deceptive decorated delight, and cut ourselves some slices. Plates in hand, we adjourned to the living room, and sat down to our feast.
Each bite was better than the last. An ecstasy of flavor, and sauce, and meat poured into our mouths like forkfuls from the gods. It was almost too much to bear; Brad met my tear filled eyes and we shared a moment of perfect understanding. Nothing, not even chocolate, had nor would ever taste this good.
When our stomachs were satiated and our plates were empty, we each shared a burp of appreciation.
I will look fondly on our meat-tastic adventure until I am old, and gray, and probably still burping up bits of it.
The shots above are there because, ya know, pics or it didn't happen.
