ell, it's time to get this year the hell out of the way, in the (probably delusional) hope that next year cannot be worse. Now where were we? When last we saw our hero, he was playing an E flat tenor horn (or alto. It's a bit complicated, really.) He had bought the thing in October, and was rapidly discovering its abilities, and limitations, not to mention his own. One thing the Cornet Player has been jonesing for since he hit The Eastern Province (besides the chance to play more cornet) is the chance to do some small-group singing. Early this year, he saw a tiny opportunity (excuse?) to assemble a small ensemble, and led them in performing a choral evensong. (First one in The Wee Town in a generation.)
There was a Mag and Nunc by a guy named John Smith (yeah, sure!) which had the virtues of being homophonic, and tonal, fairly easy to learn, and... well, that about exhausts its catalogue of virtues. We did that, and introduced four of the six singers to the concept of Anglican Chant. (Stick with me, kid, you see a lot of things you never imagined.) It... worked. And we're going to do another two or three next year, see if we don't.
In June, the Cornet Player found out that there was a Brass Band School operating in The Eastern Province, and thought, "I bet that would be a cool thing to do next year. I could find out how good real players are, I could see some of the actual repertoire that this horn is meant to play, I would do a whole lot of playing in a short time, and Get Better!" And then he thought, "Actually, I want to do all of those things Right Now!" and enrolled this year, at the last minute. What could possibly go wrong? Um, yeah. About that... The highest note that the Cornet Player had so far played in public was a (written) F sharp. Remember that bit. It comes into the story later. It turns out that the "Brass Band Summer School" does three rehearsals and eight performances over the course of two weeks, in a Very Large Military Show. That's besides the rehearsals and concerts that the band does on its own. "...a whole lot of playing in a short time." Yup. Got that base covered. Downloaded the music... It printed in landscape format. Almost as if we were going to play it from marching band lyres. (The lyre is a device that promises to hold the music where the player can see it. At least I think it's spelled that way.) How strange. I've seen brass bands on Youtube, and they play sitting down, off real music stands.... Put the music on the stand... Turn to the first number... first note... Remember that F sharp? (I told you to remember it!) Yeah, that's where it starts. That couldn't be a sign, could it? So, the Cornet Player gets a ride to the Little Smoke from the Local Anglican Cleric, gets registered, and has a great time, gets a whole lot better, it's an absolutely perfect two weeks. Okay, there was a moment or two when he was inclined to bounce the horn off a concrete wall, and quit music forever... But the Local Anglican Cleric never got a call from TCP saying, "Get me out of here, it's driving me crazy!" (or, worse, from the director of the school, saying, "Get HIM out of here, he's driving me crazy!" so we're chalking that up as a win.
The summer continued with many travels and adventures, and a couple of gigs in different churches, but more about that later...
ack in the late winter, I started this post. Before I got it published, it was far too hot for meatloaf, or anything involving an oven. Then I blinked, and the cycle of the seasons had turned from Still Winter, through Road Construction, to Really Pretty Much Winter Again Already. So here it is.
Before we go any further, it must be understood that meatloaf has a bad rap. Not the "Karl Rove and friends try to perform hip-hop for a Republican banquet" kind of bad rap. The other kind. The kind where people say bad stuff about you without a basis in reality, like "He's not much of a guitarist. He just sounds like a young Eric Clapton." So, here is What A Meatloaf Should Be. This is the Platonic Meatloaf, which defines all other meatloaf by the resemblance to this concept. It's not dry, it's not tasteless, it's not difficult. Forget whatever you've seen or experienced. This. Is. Meatloaf. Start with meat. Ground meat. Probably beef, but veal, pork, or chicken would work. You could probably do it with moose, cape buffalo or caribou. How much? About, oh, that much. Somewhere between two and four pounds, depending on how many loaf pans you have, and how many people you want to feed. You're going to use one of those plastic wrapped packages from the supermarket, so use whatever's cheap today, or whatever's at the bottom of the freezer and just has to be used up now. (If it's in the freezer, you'll have to thaw it out. Making meatloaf with frozen meat is pointlessly difficult and unrewarding. Also somewhat painful. DAMHIKT*)
You're going to need meat, oats, onions, cumin, oregano, salt, pepper, ground aniseed, green pepper or celery or celery salt, eggs and a Tomato Based Sauce-Related Thing. Start by cranking the oven up to your favourite baking temperature. Do it now. Not later. For the sake of the argument, we'll say 350 Fahrenheit. (I'm an old guy. I never learned to eat in Centigrade, we never had that in school in my day, we just weren't that posh.) Get out your loaf pans. There are many ways to prepare loaf pans, and everybody will tell you a different one. I like doing weird stuff, so I'll tell you the one that actually works. Get Parchment Paper. It's in the grocery store, rolled up in a skinny box beside the waxed paper. There was a time when to get parchment you had to start by skinning a goat, or burgling a scriptorium if you were agile and stealthy enough, but now they just sell it in stores. What a time to be alive! But I digress. Cut a strip of parchment paper long enough to just barely cover the INSIDE BOTTOM of the loaf pan from end to end. It will be a lot wider than it is long, but let the extra bits hang over the sides of the pan if you're cool with that, or cut them off at the top of the pan, if you're fussy. Oh yeah, put the parchment paper in the pans... but you already figured that out, right? Look at the meat you're going to use. Fix the volume in your mind. Now divide that volume by three. That's how much oats you use. What kind of oats? Almost any kind of oats. Steel-cut oats. Rolled oats. Quick oats. Instant oats with artificial cinnamon flavour. (Okay, you CAN use the last one, but it's not recommended.). You now have the meat in one container, and the oats in another. What kind of container? It's up to you. Plastic hard hats, surplus oil pans, lovingly hand-crafted hickory urns, it's your call. My personal favourite is steel or aluminum bowls of useful size, but I'm not trying to cramp your creativity here. Next step is to soak the oats. You can use water, milk, soy sauce, red wine, white wine or any beer you have in the house that is not Budweiser. (Because nobody should have Budweiser in their house.) My best results are from soy sauce or red wine, but, hey, use yak's milk if you want, as long as the oats get nice and soggy. Use just enough to get the oats a little soggy. Any more, and your meatloaf will take a long time to cook. To the oats, add, per pound of meat:
cumin and oregano, a teaspoon or two;
salt and pepper, as much as you'd like;
either a bit of very finely chopped celery or green pepper or some celery seed;
a teaspoon or two of ground aniseed THIS IS IMPORTANT, DO NOT FORGET IT, IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD! Find somebody who sells it, and you will have a new friend -- one with aniseed.
About a quarter of an onion, chopped as finely as you have patience for;
and an egg.
Once the oats are nicely soggy, mush the oats-and-stuff up with your hands until it's homogeneous, or homogeneous-ish. Then add the meat, and repeat the whole mushing-up exercise, for at least as long as you think reasonable. Now that you have raw-meat-soggy-oats-raw-egg gunk all over your hands, aren't you glad you started by turning on the oven and getting out the pans? Otherwise, you would have to wash your hands, and turn on the oven, etc, and then stick your hands back into the raw-meat-soggy-oats-raw-egg gunk, which would be less fun than it sounds.
Now, if you used fresh, never-frozen meat, you must make The Decision: Do you really want meatloaf? Because if you split this up into four ounce disks, you will have the best hamburgers ever. You can freeze them (if you used fresh ground meat) or pan fry them, or flour them and brown them and braise them in red wine, which will not only taste amazing, but are likely to turn purple, which will make you the Coolest Dad Ever...
Um, where was I? Oh yeah.
Put the meat stuff in the pan or pans. Divide it as evenly as you can be bothered to. Push it down flat on top. Cover the top of the meat with the Tomato Based Thing. Traditionally, it should be non-chunky Salsa, but it can be spaghetti sauce, ketchup, or crushed tomatoes, if you're stuck. Its purpose is mostly to keep the meat from drying out, so the flavour is not critical. You could use slices of tomato, which would not be wrong, just really, really weird. Sling those pans into the oven, and prepare for the Smell of Incredible Coolness to develop. Leave it in there until it reaches the Safe Temperature. How long will depend on what you (or your S.O.) considers to be the Safe Temperature and what your oven considers to be 350 degrees F. Opinions on both subjects vary hilariously, but it takes some serious effort to over-cook this meatloaf. When it reaches the mystical temperature of safety, pull it out of the pans and put it on a plate to slice. If you left the ends of the parchment paper intact, you even have something to lift it out by. Leftovers will refrigerate safely for a couple of days, but usually somebody eats it before then.
That's it for now. Watch this space to see What the Cornet Player Did Next. *Don't ask me how I know this
