I always thought pretty highly of my meatloaf skills.
It’s moist and flavorful. It holds its shape. I’d never ever had nothing but raves about my meatloaf.
That is until the ultimate meatloaf death match championship of 2006.
A meatloaf cook off was held to determine whose meatloaf would be served at this year's incarnation of my almost annual Soul Food Brunch.
My meatloaf got its ass soundly kicked.
My meatloaf became the bitch to the much more flavorful meatloaf of my friend.
Jealously and envy set in quickly.
I don’t so much mind losing---in my book losing equals learning. What chapped my hide is that I knew I lost when I took a bite of his creation when we were plating the food for our taste testers.
Defeat never tasted so good.
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