The secret ingredient in my go-to comfort food

Hello! Scroll to the end of the newsletter to find a new occasional feature: a rant and a rave about what I see when I’m out and about.

I’m constantly challenging myself to use up things in the larder. Finding celery and blue cheese in the refrigerator, walnuts in the pantry, and I'm riffing on a quick Waldorf salad for lunch. Most recently, a lone egg, a few radicchio leaves, and the last two slices of rye made a simply satisfying fried egg sandwich. 

At home, I also like to eat as clean as I can. Friends and family know I can spoon my way to the bottom of a pint of ice cream in a single sitting, and chips of any kind – especially Cool Ranch or Nacho Cheese Doritos – are my Kryptonite. That said, meals Chez Tom and Ed (and Henry, our whippet) tend to be healthful. Spice-rubbed roast chicken with an assertively dressed green salad is a combo I serve at least once a week.

You can imagine my small joy when I came across a better-for-us recipe for meatloaf, a comfort-food favorite. It’s made without a milk-soaked binder of bread, breadcrumbs, or crackers. The ingredient that helps retain tenderness and ensures juicy results instead? Oats — almost a cup’s worth straight out of their cardboard canister. I like the recipe’s inherent twofer, relying on what a lot of home cooks have on hand and the fact that it’s relatively nutritious. Small surprise, the basis for my go-to meatloaf comes courtesy of Quaker Oats. 

“Write what you know,” authors are advised. Similarly, “cook what you know” works for dinner hosts. Last winter, I served a slightly tweaked version to two of D.C.’s top chefs, Amy Brandwein of Centrolina and Piccolina and Seng Luangrath of Thip Khao, Baan Mae, and Padaek. Now, meatloaf is something my mom made weekly in rural Minnesota and no way was I going to make anything Italian or Southeastern Asian for women who have built their careers on those cuisines. Besides, I know food professionals are grateful just to have someone else cook for them. 

As it turns out, “I love meatloaf!” Luangrath told me when I announced my menu in advance. In fact, she says she regularly makes meatloaf for family, or staff, meal at Baan Mae. Her recipe calls for ground pork, taro root, sticky rice, fish sauce, and more. Just reading those words makes me hungry to join her staff pre-shift some time. 

This meatloaf recipe is adaptable and fairly foolproof. Use ground turkey or ground beef, and just about any fresh herbs you like; a heaping tablespoon of chopped marjoram from our balcony garden warmed up my last loaf. I mix in diced carrots that add color and moisture to each thick slice and provide a welcome punctuation of soft crunch in the eating. 

6 to 8 servings

I like to bake this in a loaf pan instead of freeforming it. Although I don’t typically glaze my meatloaf, a final brush of Dijon mustard does add some zing. Cold slices make good sandwiches; I have been known to carve a single slice for breakfast.

Olive oil, for the pan
1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef (I use 90/10; may substitute ground turkey breast)
3/4 cup old-fashioned/rolled or quick-cooking oats
One 5- or 6-ounce yellow onion, finely chopped (1 cup)
1 medium/thin carrot, scrubbed well and cut into small dice (1/2 cup)
3 garlic cloves, minced
Leaves from 8 to 10 stems parsley, finely chopped (1/2 cup; optional)
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup ketchup, preferably Heinz
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce 
2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease an 8½ x 4½- inch loaf pan with
the oil.

Combine the meat, oats, onion, carrot, garlic, parsley, if using, the egg, ketchup,
Worcestershire sauce, crushed red pepper flakes, salt, and black pepper in a mixing bowl.

Use a spoon or your clean hands (I use disposable gloves) to gently mix until the
ingredients are evenly distributed.

Transfer the mixture to the loaf pan, loosely packing it in. Bake until nicely browned
and the internal temperature registers 160 degrees F on a digital thermometer, for 45
to 50 minutes.

Let the meatloaf sit in the pan for at least 5 minutes before dislodging or serving.

Adapted from a recipe at QuakerOats.com

A monthly feature in which I share a meal with someone I admire.

I had the honor of taking the stage at Dorothy Hamm Middle School in Arlington, Va., with Francis Lam as part of the 20th anniversary of Arlington Reads!, in conjunction with the Arlington Public Library’s year-long food-focused celebration of American culture and history. (You can watch a recording of the event here.) Lam wears a lot of hats as the host of the radio and podcast program “The Splendid Table,” a vice president and editor-in-chief at Clarkson Potter, and frequent speaker. Previously, he wrote the “Eat” column for the New York Times Magazine and served as a judge on Bravo’s “Top Chef Masters.”

We talked about inspiration, motivations, even Cheez-Its, then continued the conversation over a late dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in D.C.: the Mexican Chicatana on 14th St. NW. Here are excerpts from our exchanges:

Your parents operated a garment factory in Chinatown in New York. You grew up in New Jersey. What were dinners like?

My parents worked in Manhattan from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. The family didn’t eat until 9:30 when they got home. The first question out of my dad’s mouth was typically, ‘Did you get any quizzes in school today?’ My siblings didn’t speak Cantonese, but I practiced it with my parents over meals. We talked about things, not ideas — certainly not feelings. We talked about food.

A lot of children of immigrants in this country have a story of their food being criticized before being celebrated. What’s your memory?

I was visiting my parents at work on a Saturday and rewarmed leftovers from a restaurant meal with my father: Taiwanese pork chop rice. I remember a tall white male with an English accent coming in and inquiring for my father, who had stepped away. The customer turned to leave, but not before asking, ‘What is that awful smell?’ I feigned disgust and dumped my food in the garbage.

After attending the University of Michigan, you went on to the Culinary Institute of America, where you graduated first in your class and enjoyed a bit of a fairy-tale moment that launched your writing career.

Nerdily, I wanted to learn more abut food culture and study with my hands as much as my head. I started writing emails about cooking school to friends who thought they were funny and asked if they could share them with others. The list grew to about 90. One recipient asked for permission to show the email to an editor at the Financial Times. The call resulted in a story that read like a diary. My mother keeps a framed copy of the article at home.

When you started writing the immigrant-focused “Eat” column, you showed your first draft to Ruth Reichl of Gourmet.

‘You sound nervous,’ she wrote back. ‘Loosen up. Be you.’

How do you help your authors to find their voice on a page?

I never want anyone to read a book and think Francis Lam edited it. I don’t want to leave a footprint. My job is to make an author sound more like themself. I want to be a reader, not a writer.

P.S.: An occasional thumbs up or down in the food scene 

RANT: Like a lot of people, I’m tired of tasting menus that go on for hours and hours and leave some diners feeling as if they just pushed away from a Thanksgiving table. Chefs should do them a favor and edit down to four or five dishes they’re especially proud of, and then practice the pacing ahead of service.

RAVE: Count me as a customer who prefers seeing a gratuity added to the bill. (The option of different percentages is thoughtful, but 20 percent is the industry norm these days.) I hate having to do math after a meal. Smart restaurants know to highlight the addition on the check and point it out again at the table. (Thank you, Unconventional Diner in D.C.)

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