Day 3: Meatloaf dinner

The Husband is a cooking maniac these days because he:
1) Is between jobs and so not working office hours during August.
2) Is slavishly devoted to gourmet cookbooks. Actually, just those of one guy: Michael Chiarello, the arguably cheesy Napa Valley chef who rose to national fame on the Food Network.
3) Has recently discovered "The Foster's Market Cookbook," an oldish cookbook that we own in galley form (i.e. the publisher's rough draft bound copy with no page numbers or working index).

Tonight, we ate leftover Ratatouille Meatloaf, which is turkey meatloaf containing a surprise layer of mozzarella cheese and grilled ratatouille. The thing about turkey meatloaf, or perhaps meatloaf in general, is that it's difficult to mask its resemblance to cat food. Isabella wanted to eat with her eyes closed because she didn't like the way the meatloaf looked but liked the way it tasted. A culinary conundrum! Actually, Isabella came up with the term to describe her conflicted stance toward the meatloaf: "Yummyucky."

Also on the plate: sauteed broccoli with loads of garlic and orange zest (I think), some ratatouille garnish on the side, roasted whole okra (I made this; I love okra). Isabella digs okra, too, but only the very smallest ones that she can eat whole. I realized that okra should not be cut and then roasted; just roast them whole, even the big ones, for 20 to 25 minutes at 425 degrees after a quick toss in olive oil, salt, and pepper. Cajun delight.

We say: YUMMY. Finn included.