Boston Market’s Meatloaf Pretty Close To Mom’s Recipe

This week I reached out for a man-size, stick-to-your-ribs, double-sauced, extra-large meatloaf sandwich at Boston Market.

Man, I can’t remember the last time I had meatloaf. I could just kick myself, too. I love meatloaf. Who doesn’t?

It’s one of the great comfort foods from our childhood. Meatloaf was the most trustworthy thing in the school cafeteria. At least it was the right color.

Swanson’s legendary meatloaf TV dinner belongs in the Broadcasting Hall of Fame. Right next to the rotating display of Larry King’s wives.

But Americans hardly ever eat meatloaf anymore. It’s because we’re hooked on those darn hamburgers. At home, it’s easy like 1-2-3 to toss a frozen burger in the frying pan. On the road, the Golden Arches beckon us with billions and billions of burgers.

Burgers are fast. Meatloaf is slow. We like fast more.

Well, let me tell you, you’re looking at a new me. I’m checking out of the rat race. I’m hopping off the treadmill and pulling a chair up to a nice, gushy, thick meatloaf sandwich. I want it so juicy that it soaks all the way through and I leave fingerprints on the bread.

Here’s the blueprint for Boston Market’s meatloaf sandwich: a 1-inch slice of baked, 100 percent beef meatloaf, smothered in gloppy tomato sauce on a honey wheat bun. So simple. Yet so elegant.

(You could throw on a slice of cheese, but that would be like spiking the ball in the end zone. Classy veterans just don’t do it. And it will cost you 10 yards on the ensuing kickoff.)

Total calories: 690. Fat grams: 21.

At upwards of $4, it’s not cheap, but it’s worth it when you consider the extra effort that goes into meatloaf. It’s baked for two hours, not fried in a blink. It’s drenched in a ketchupy sludge that’s so thick you can almost hear Carly Simon singing “Anticipation.”

And then Boston Market drenches it a second time.

Boston Market makes its meatloaf sandwiches one at a time. Each one is an itsy bitsy little bit different. Go to a burger joint and every sandwich is exactly the same, like the songs on Barry Manilow’s “Greatest Hits.”

It’s almost like the meatloaf Mom used to make. Mom threw in bread crumbs and onions and whatever was about to go bad in the refrigerator.

Boston Market mixes in bread crumbs and onions, too.

Fortunately, they don’t take Mom’s fatal last step.

This meatloaf sandwich is a biggie. It’s more filling, yet lower in calories and fat grams, than a fully loaded Whopper or drippy Big Mac.

For an extra dollar, you get a side dish and soft drink. I heartily recommend the mashed potatoes (extra gravy, please) or dill new potatoes. This is no time to punk out with a salad. Let’s get back to basics.

I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a brawny flannel shirt, either.

MEMO: The Drive-Thru Gourmet reviews offerings from various fast-food restaurants.