The moral imagination continues to stagger at the devastation in the Indian Ocean. How to respond? Send money, of course, and then send more more money. But tonight, relief efforts are foundering, and thousands of personal losses there will never be redeemed.
Again, what to do? My answer for this evening: make meatloaf for friends. It's a small breakwater against the tide of mortality, a ritual act of sensual pleasure to hold off the darkness.
It's difficult to feel morose while the onions are sizzling, or when you're wrist-deep in a cool, oozy mixture of crushed tomatoes, diced bread, whole milk, oregano, marjoram, parmesan, and five pounds of fresh ground beef. Pat it into loaves, cover with bacon, more crushed tomatoes, parsley.
It's cooking now. Up next: peas, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. Eat hearty, friends. We're glad you're here. Happy new year.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Redemptive Meatloaf
Posted by David Wharton at Friday, December 31, 2004
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2 comments:
Happy Meatloaf, David. I have coem to immensely enjoy your blog - thoigh most posts remind me of just how achingly uneducated I am. Keep doing the voodoo that you do, and I'll keep the thesaurus handy. Happy New Year!
I write down small phrases I like on notecards and tack them to my bulletin board every day. Thank your for today's, which came from this post: "It's difficult to feel morose while the onions are sizzling." Very wise.
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