Vegetarian Meatloaf

Year two. I sat down to write this week's post and realized it's been fifty-three weeks since I started typing about soup beans into a computer like a man dictating his last will and testament to a machine that doesn't care. The machine still doesn't care. But people do. The readership — and I use that word loosely, the way you'd use "army" to describe three guys and a dog — has grown. Not dramatically. But enough. Enough that when I miss a Monday post, I get emails asking if I'm dead. I am not dead. I was tired. There's a difference, though at forty-eight the gap is narrowing.

My birthday was Thursday. Forty-nine. Connie made meatloaf, which is my favorite meal and which she makes exactly once a year, on my birthday, like a liturgical observance. Connie's meatloaf is simple — ground beef, an egg, breadcrumbs, ketchup, onion, salt, pepper — and she shapes it by hand and glazes the top with more ketchup and bakes it until the edges are crusty and the middle is tender and the kitchen smells like 1975, like a meal that every American mother made once a week whether the family wanted it or not.

I love meatloaf. I love it because it's unpretentious and slightly ugly and does exactly one thing well, which is be itself without apology. Meatloaf does not aspire to be steak. Meatloaf does not worry about presentation. Meatloaf is a rectangle of meat with ketchup on top and if you don't like it, meatloaf doesn't care. I identify with meatloaf. I am meatloaf.

Betty called at seven AM to sing happy birthday. She sings the way all Hensleys sing — off-key, with conviction — and she added a verse at the end that she makes up fresh each year. This year's verse was "Happy birthday dear Craig, don't lift nothing heavy." Medical advice set to music. She asked if my back was better. I said yes. She said "Liar." She's right.

My back has been bad this month. The winter was hard on it — cold tightens everything, and construction in January and February means I'm clenching muscles I didn't know I had just to stay upright in the wind. The heating pad lives on my recliner now. Connie bought me a TENS unit, which is a device that sends electrical impulses into your muscles and supposedly helps with pain. It feels like being stung by a very polite bee. I use it while watching TV and pretend it's working because Connie spent forty dollars on it and hope has a price.

Forty-nine. One year from fifty. I think about what fifty means for a Hensley man. Earl made it to sixty-two. His father made it to fifty-eight. His father before that, fifty-four. Coal miners don't have long lifespans. The dust and the dark and the physical punishment take decades off the back end. I'm out of the mines — have been for fourteen years — but the mines aren't out of me. My lungs aren't what they should be. Some mornings I cough like Earl coughed, and when I catch myself, I stop and hold still and listen to the silence after, and the silence is either reassuring or terrifying depending on how much coffee I've had.

Now, Connie’s meatloaf is beef and ketchup and everything my mother made, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. But I’ve learned that meatloaf — the idea of it, the unpretentious rectangle-of-something-good-with-ketchup-on-top spirit of it — doesn’t require beef to be itself. This vegetarian version has the same crusty edges, the same tender middle, the same refusal to apologize for what it is. If you’re feeding someone who doesn’t eat meat, or if you just want to see what meatloaf looks like when it tries something new at forty-nine, here’s a version worth making.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup walnuts, finely chopped
1 cup cooked brown lentils
1 cup old-fashioned oats
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce (vegetarian if preferred)
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup ketchup, divided
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon yellow mustard

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set oven to 375°F (190°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease a loaf pan.
Cook the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Let cool slightly.
Mix the loaf. In a large bowl, combine the cooked onion and garlic, walnuts, lentils, oats, breadcrumbs, eggs, soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, smoked paprika, cumin, salt, pepper, and 1/4 cup of the ketchup. Stir until everything is well combined. The mixture should hold together when pressed — if it’s too loose, add a tablespoon or two more breadcrumbs.
Shape it. Transfer the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet and shape into a loaf roughly 9 inches long and 4 inches wide, or press into a loaf pan. Shape it by hand, the way it ought to be done.
Make the glaze. Stir together the remaining 1/4 cup ketchup, brown sugar, and mustard. Spread evenly over the top of the loaf.
Bake. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until the edges are crusty and the top is caramelized. The internal temperature should reach 160°F.
Rest and serve. Let the meatloaf rest for 10 minutes before slicing. This is important — it needs time to firm up or it’ll fall apart on you like a man turning forty-nine.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vegetarian Meatloaf — A Birthday Meal for a Man Who Identifies With Meatloaf