Feel the Burn: Bacon Wrapped Meatloaf, Playa-Style

Burning Man is upon us, and in my fashion, I decided to over-work myself for the pleasure of it--and, of course, the accolades of my peers ;)

Those words were written after a sixteen-hour stint of cooking in preparation for the Big Event at the end of August. It's taken me that long to recover enough from the whole experience just to finish writing out this recipe, and I gotta tell ya, I'm not even up for the challenge now. If it weren't for the commitment to myself, I would be curled up in bed, watching an old movie and waiting for the rain to fall.

But here I sit—typing—on my cold, hard chair, instead of napping in my warm, fluffy bed. All just to comfort my spirit, and perhaps, to add a cozy dish of deliciousness to the Mad Hatter's T.V. tray.

For the Burn, I had been invited to be one of Flirt Camp's three chefs, along with M.H. and SuperDiva. And as you can see, I went all out. The old timers consulted with me to warn against cooking more than one camp meal per day, to divvy up the days, and to go over menus so as not to have any overlap. With three uber-foodies at the helm, meal time was epic, and our camp never ate better!

Taking everyone's food sensitivities into consideration, and purchasing only the best ingredients—all recipes were organic, gluten free, and farm-stand fresh. I was able to get a screamin' deal on both thick sliced, maple smoked bacon, and on 90/10 halal beef from Restaurant Depot—and, yes, I stole an old employer's identity for the privilege of that discount. Next, I haggled my way down at some local farmer's markets, caught a break with Mariposa Baking Company for my large order of gluten free bread crumbs, and sneaked away with an amazing flat break on some of the most delectable mushies I've ever worked with from the Ferry Building.

I rarely ever measure out my ingredients, which probably comes from nearly a lifetime spent cooking professionally. So, bear with me on this recipe while I try and give proper measurements. Also, whenever dealing with a mash of raw ingredients—like a meatloaf—always test the product for appropriate seasoning by frying up a quarter-sized amount in a small frying pan before baking off the whole kit and caboodle. There is nothing worse than taking that first bite of what is supposed to be sumptuous and juicy, only to discover it tastes like fancy cardboard.

INGREDIENTS

Ground Beef or Turkey
Italian Style Pork Sausage
Wild Mushrooms
Mirepoix—or—Onions, Carrots, and Celery
Fresh Garlic
Eggs
Fennel Seed
Italian Seasoning
Cayenne Pepper
Golden Flax Seed, ground
Gluten Free Bread Crumbs
Braggs Liquid Aminos
Tapatio
Delicious Bacon

If I can remember correctly, I used two parts beef to one part sausage, and one part ground mushrooms (I used a combination of oyster, shitake, crimini, and portobello, then threw them all in the Cuisinart to finely chop).

Next, I diced the carrots, onions, and celery as fine as you can. It doesn't need to be a brunoise, but a finer dice works better than a larger cut for both mouth feel and flavor distribution.

When adding the garlic, I choose to grate it over a Microplane. This is much easier than my old preferred method of peeling, crushing, and dicing. The result is a finer product, so there will be no large chunks to surprise anyone; and none of the oils are lost, so you can use less product for more punch.

Since the ground mushrooms comprise so much of the bulk in this particular meatloaf, I chose to add in more Italian seasoning and fennel seed to offset the lack from a smaller portion of sausage, and I used cayenne instead of black pepper when finalizing my seasonings. Cayenne is a wonderful blood cleaner and stimulant (owning to it's reputation as an aphrodisiac), leaving a gentle warmth in the mouth if used sparingly, as opposed to its more brusque brother, black pepper.

As a binding agent, I threw in about equal parts of ground golden flax seed and gluten free bread crumbs, figuring that we could use the extra fiber in the desert to cut down on commode time. Plus, the golden flax seed is a wonderful anti-inflammatory agent to combat our excessive partying in the hot summer sun.

For the four huge loafs you see in the picture, I believe I used eight to twelve farm-fresh eggs, along with healthy squirts of both Braggs and Tapatio. Please add these before adding your salt and pepper, as they naturally will season the loaf.

Once all of the ingredients are in the bowl, or in this case, the extra-large storage drawer, roll up your sleeves and start mushing! Your product should be moist and sticky, but not gloopy—you want the concoction to hold its shape all on its own.

Pull off a small meatball, flatten out, and fry up in a pan to test your seasoning. Remember, you can always add more of whatever you want (salt, pepper, garlic, fennel), but you can't take it out!

If the levels are where you want them, then it is now time to shape and wrap. When you have split up the loafs, roll and press and re-roll to work out all of the air pockets—this way, when it bakes off, the loaves will maintain their girlish figures. Also, the more compact you can work your meat, the easier it will be to wrap in bacon. Now, I know Grandma used to cover hers with ketchup, but we are a different generation—one where pork fat rules—and that can be an after-cooking accoutrement. Bake off your beauties in a 350 degree oven until they reach about 165 internal temperature, and let rest before slicing.

In the desert, we ate our meatloaf with a kale salad comprised of roasted beets and sweet potatoes, raw red onion, and bacon bits, tossed in an apple cider vinaigrette; but it is also delicious accompanied by mashed potatoes and gravy, on a sandwich the next day, or served on the bare breasts of a unicorn-headed unicyclist.

And, don't forget that cherry cobbler—or in our case, gluten free/dairy free peach and summer strawberry crumble—to complete your Hungry Man meal.

Slathered in Sunflower Seed Pate

Each week I attend a meeting for a few hours—really it's like a group counseling session—with the focus and goal being on having amazing, long-term partnerships that reach new levels of turn-on and intimacy over time (instead of what so many of us have experienced in or past, which is just the opposite). So, as you can imagine, many and most subjects get covered in our year-long course. This meeting was on Halloween, and my dad had just passed not two weeks prior. The facilitators had asked if I would like to share with the group what was going on for me, and it turned into one of the most intense experiences of my life.

Halloween happens to be one of my most favorite holidays of the whole year, and this was no exception. Adam had just given me a beautiful black silk corset, custom made by the uber-talented seamstresses at The Dark Garden here in San Francisco, as a belated birthday gift. That, along with his pre-Burning Man surprise of a red cloak, and I was well on my way to being a sexy Red Riding Hood, with him at my side as the Big Bad Wolf (apropos since he's also the furriest man I've ever met!).

The topic that night was the prostitution of the authentic pains of our past for the purposes of our Super Ego today. After a 20 minute meditation, feeling into our body and the experience of Now, Erwan lectured on the subject and asked us to split into groups of three and give ten-minute monologues on how this shows up for us personally in our lives. So, there I was, dressed like a Victorian prostitute, feeling into my experience and divulging some of the most intimate details of my inner self, when it was all-of-the-sudden time to share my feelings on the passing of my father. Life has such a sense of humor sometimes. I was physically so exposed, and yet that almost seemed to help with revealing those details I was having such a hard time fully baring to myself. When I stood up, I didn't know what I would say. I thought all I had to tell were the facts of his final adventure. What came out were questions of the reason for existence, and a turbulent vacillation between hot anger and deep sadness.

This was intense and exhausting.

We were ready for food.

As I've mentioned before, I tend to pour my emotions out into food. A few nights prior I had started out to make Adam and me a simple dinner of seared chicken with peppers over polenta, and maybe a little something green. What we got was red wine and garlic marinated chicken breasts in a spicy sauce of peppers, onions, and sundried tomatoes with crispy Italian sausage over herbed polenta. This was accompanied by sides of pureed butternut squash with ginger, and sauteed red Russian kale with apples in white wine to top. Along with that hot mess, I started the Sunflower Pate for the Evening of Intensity.

INGREDIENTS

3 cups Sunflower Seeds
1 1/12 bunches Green Onion
6-8 Cloves Garlic
4 Eureka Lemons
1/2 bunch Basil (fresh)
1-2 teaspoons White Truffle Oil
about 1 1/2 cups First Cold Pressed Olive Oil
Celtic Sea Salt, to taste

I started soaking the seeds on Monday night. Select your bowl and make sure you give them at least three times the space to grown as was the original volume. Cover the seeds with at least two inches of fresh, cold water and leave on the counter for about 24 hours. I am a little anal retentive, so I ended up rinsing them about twice in that period of time, first to wash away the blackish, murky water; and second, to try and figure out how to pull out the chaff quickly separating from the seed. If jostled in the bowl a bit, I found the majority of the outer-coating of the seeds will float to the top of the pile, then I just skimmed it off. A few seeds were sacrificed, and a bit of the chaff remained—but I ain't trippin'. The seeds will start to sprout, if they are still live seed, and that is what we want.

Next, I had to split my portion of sprouted seeds in half because our food processor isn't quite big enough to fit all that goodness in it's little bowl. Into this batch I threw half of the garlic; half of the green onion, chopped from white to green; the juice of two lemons (please do not be tempted to use Meyer lemons. They are way to delicate in flavor and acidity to "cook" the onions and garlic, and to stand up, taste wise, to the other ingredients.); and a pinch or two of Celtic Sea Salt (I chose this variety because of it's high mineral content, and softer punch).

Now blend the bejesus out of it. While it is whirring, there should be enough liquid in the mix to allow the ingredients to break down, and start to form a paste-like substance that will climb up the bowl walls, then crumble back over into the middle of the spinning blades. As this is happening, slowly drizzle in half of the olive oil. You know you have poured in enough olive oil when the mix stops climbing the walls, and seems to be a bit wet. (Note: this should not take *too* long. If it's dragged out, the contents will heat up and separate, or break. If  that happens, pulse in some [as in 1-4 tablespoons] ice water. This *should* bring it back, or re-emulsify the product.)

Once the batch is at the consistency you want (it will be a little less smooth than hummus), pulse in half of the basil that has been roughly chopped with a super sharp knife. Basil bruises easily, so a sharp knife will reduce this browning effect. That is also why I throw it in almost at the end—all that action in the Robot Coupe really tears it up. I highly recommend tasting the batch as it progresses, and adjusting the seasoning as you go—like now. Adding salt is much easier to get consistency in the mixer, than later by hand.

After the basil has been pulsed in, dump into a large mixing bowl and do it again with the second half.

We now have a product of garlic-y, oniony, lemony pungency. The hot garlic is cooled by the crisp basil, the pungent onion brightened and cleaned by the lemon. But what of umami (pronounced: you-mommy)? That is where the beloved/hated truffle oil comes in. You should have about eight cups of product in your bowl, but truffle is notorious for being an under-estimated David taking down some pretty big Goliaths. With that in mind, start with folding in one teaspoon of the stuff, and taste to see where everything ends up. I highly recommend having some coffee near by to cleanse the nose, and maybe a glass of white wine for the palate, as the taste and smell of truffle oil will saturate your senses.

Also keep in mind that these early tastings will have the flavors polarized. This concoction should sit for at least eight hours to allow the flavors to blend and calm. The fresh lemon ends up cooking the garlic and onion, primarily, turning their heat to sweet. The addition of the truffle oil is to meld the flavors, not to actually taste it, itself. It simply adds a certain something that should tickle and flirt with the eater, not beat over the head with it's brazen attitude.

I served it up with Dosa Chips I found in the Marina at a Bi-Rite, I think. They are a fermented rice based, gluten free, salty/crunchy treat perfect for dipping in this raw, vegan pool of deliciousness.

Maybe it was the sensitization that comes from such an intense evening, but one of the gals (a deliciously buxom blonde, I might add) exclaimed she was enjoying the dip so much, she wanted to slather her whole being in it. Could there possibly be a better compliment?