I can't compete with your mom's meatloaf, dude.

Twas a glorious weekend. The sun is finally out, we were able to enjoy the nice weather and our friends Ben and Jeff were in town this weekend for a little March Madness action. We spent the majority of our time drinking beer and watching our sad, little brackets fail us. I have no financial or emotional investment in the games this year, so I would pop in and out of the room while cooking in the kitchen and entertaining myself while the guys consumed, cat-napped and threw their fists at the television screen. Although it wasn't much of a productive weekend as far as the social calendar goes, I did a fair amount of cooking and baking.

So, Jeff is allergic peppers. It took almost a year to remember this fact, considering almost everything John and I make has onions and green peppers in it. I let him decide what sounded good this weekend, and as any good midwestern boy would answer, he said, 'My mom's meatloaf and lasagna.' I've found that people are very partial to the way their mommies prepare meatloaf. You're either on the ketchup team or the hearty, brown gravy team when it comes to beef loaves. And, there is always the secret ingredient of your Freudian love for your mother that isn't included in my recipe. No matter how much TLC goes into shaping that loaf of meaty goodness, it will never be as good as the one made by the woman who folded your underwear when you were a kid. It will always be better than mine, because I didn't give birth to you.

That being said, I went with lasagna. It's a crowd pleaser, no matter what and you can skip the peppers and substitute with more garlic. It also has enough cheese to clog the digestive track of a small horse - everybody wins. I was a little self conscious about making such a basic recipe, but that's the beauty of Italian cooking. Keep it simple, stupid.

No pictures for this one. Close your eyes and imagine Josh Brolin dipped in sauce and covered in fresh mozzarella. That's how delish it was.