“‘Too much trouble,’ ‘Too expensive,’ or ‘Who will know the difference’ are death knells for good food.”

-Julia Child, Mastering the Art of French cooking.


I am a huge fan of Mario Batali. I love following his recipes because they are delicious and authentic. They are often simple and not particularly difficult, but they are never dumbed-down. In his books, he tells you how to make everything from scratch,. 

Doing this is often not especially demanding, though, because his recipes rarely have more than 10-12 ingredients, He does not attempt to cut out fat, and he is not afraid to throw in an esoteric ingredient once in awhile, but oftentimes the ingredients are be simple and easy to find. He tries to present Italian food to American audiences without cutting corners as best he can. Unlike a lot of Food Network Stars that I can name, he has yet to succumb to the “death knells of good cooking”.

This is Batali’s take on meatloaf, although calling it a meatloaf might be a little like calling the space shuttle an airplane. It’s a meatloaf flavored with pecorino Romano cheese and stuffed with carrots, spinach, prosciutto, and cheese. It really is a beautiful dish to serve.  The meatloaf emerges from the oven with a beautiful brown crust and cheese melting out the sides while it fills your kitchen with incredible aromas.  Then you slice it and there are so many good parts to be had. The loaf itself, which is a little salty from pecorino Romano cheese, has a delicious crunchy exterior. The carrots and spinach are delicious as well, as they absorb the surrounding flavors. The sweetness of the carrots melds with salty and porky prosciutto and the flavor of the baked cheese, and they will be unlike any carrots you have ever had. And the cheese looks, tastes, and smells delicious.

This is a great dish to serve for guests. It is gourmet without being esoteric or tricky, comforting without being bland, and has a beautiful presentation, but you don’t need to fuss over the appearance.

Christmas Day is here! I've already opened my carefully selected presents and I sit down before a true feast. In front of me is slow-roasted ham, whose gravy will top my hand-crushed potatoes. The green beans are overcooked to nostalgic perfection. Jalapeño cornbread casserole, biscuits, orange jello and moist stuffing are passed around the table. For the second year, I pour myself a glass of red wine and I have chocolate milk on the side for good measure. What an amazing assortment of proteins, fats and carbohydrates I am about to consume. But I consider myself a health-conscious eater—how cruel a punishment is the feast for my intestinal system? Should I be worried?

I reach for my fork to dig in when I hear a pop and feel a slight weight on my right shoulder. I glance down and find that a miniature Megan Fox has alighted there. She is wearing little more than a tiny santa hat and I can see a pair of gnarled horns poking through the white felt. Whoah, I think, this is not normal. I go back to eating and try to pretend that nothing happened. A few minutes later I peak back at my shoulder and there is Megan Fox, looking a little disgruntled. I hear another pop on my left shoulder. I turn to see a fat little man wearing a paper pilgrim hat and a shoddy gray suit.