Meatballs Slowly Simmered in Sauce
family is complicated, meatballs are not
things you’ll need: a mix of meats equaling 1 ½ - 2 lbs (beef and pork, add veal or lamb to the mix, or do your own thing), milk, eggs, pecorino romano (or similar finely grated cheese), breadcrumbs (or crushed *GF crackers), fresh parsley, fresh basil, garlic, chili flake, crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, salt, pepper, and olive oil.
*I do not like GF panko and have tried a variety of GF substitutions. The best one I have found is these soda crackers all crushed up. They worked super well in my Meatloaf and in these Chicken and Zucchini Meatballs. Maybe you know a better solution.
My pre-winter nesting and hoarding instincts are in full swing and I’ve started making foods that freeze well. I love meatballs and, for some reason, have never made them. When I came across this recipe from Anna Francese Gass, I had to make them. After all, it’s her grandmother’s recipe and those are always the best recipes (same recipe outside a paywall).
Gluten-free adaptable. For Vegetarian or Vegan, make a Lentil Shepherd’s Pie
Chapter 238
Sometimes you’ll hear a family story that was always told as a joke and suddenly you understand the apology in it. As though the story was passed down to explain how everyone in your family has the same faults and fragilities. Families, even the best of them, are a complicated inheritance.
You start opening all the locked boxes where your family lives inside you. This inventory is exhausting, no matter how necessary. Sometimes you open too many boxes at once and then you lay in bed for a day or two, not thinking very much at all.
You wish you had as many hand-me-down recipes as second-hand traumas. You wish you’d written more down. You wish more people had written more down so you could understand more of where you came from.
Unlike memories, people don’t hand-down bad recipes. You never find yourself flipping through recipe cards with notes like “Awful: never make again” but, thanks to family lore, you know why you are so good at diffusing conflict, feel loyalty to a sports team that you never watch, and will never go to Disney Land in January without extra jackets and sweatshirts.
Maybe there were no recipes to pass down or the box of handwritten cards pulled from some ancestral pantry is incomplete. Maybe you never had a grandmother, or she was not the sort of grandmother you’d find in a kitchen. Maybe, in your family, it was an Aunt or Cousin or the kitchen was an unclaimed territory. Maybe you planted your flag, made it your own, and now it’s up to you to write down soups, stews, and new histories.
Since you don’t have one, find someone else’s grandmother’s recipe for meatballs.
In a large saucepan, big enough to snuggle over a dozen meatballs, very very slowly toast a few chopped cloves of garlic, 5 torn basil leaves, and some chili flakes in ½ cup of good olive oil. You don’t know why it must be five leaves of basil, but you assume the grandmother had a reason. When the garlic reaches a nutty medium brown, strain the oil and reserve. Set the solids aside to use somehow later because it just feels weird to throw them away.
In the same pan, sauté a few Tablespoons of tomato paste until it turns from bright red to a rich caramelized scarlet. Add two 28oz cans of crushed tomatoes, the infused oil, and 2 cups of water, salt and pepper to taste. Remove ½ cup of sauce to cool while the rest simmers, partially covered and undisturbed on the stove, making the whole kitchen smell amazing.
Grate a whole cup of pecorino romano or measure out a cup of pre-grated parmesan, knowing that parmesan will be saltier, and adjust seasoning accordingly. Mix in a whole cup of Italian bread crumbs, or whatever crumbs you have chosen, a Tablespoon of salt, enough pepper, and a Tablespoon (or more) of chopped fresh parsley.
In a large bowl, lightly mix together your mix of meats with the cheesy seasoned crumb combination. Add two large eggs (beaten), ½ cup of the reserved sauce, and ½ cup of whole milk. Take off all your rings and mix with your hands until just combined. Don’t over-mix because someone’s grandmother said so.
With damp hands, roll the mix into balls (¼ cup or 3.5-4oz each). Once all the balls are rolled, gently drop them in the simmering sauce. Cover and continue simmering for at least one hour, maybe even two, until firm and cooked through.
Serve hot, covered in chopped basil, cheese, and the desire to be more than the legacy of tattered gifts your family passed down.
Other foods I consider inherited
Sunday Sauce (as an entire act of love)
Hey friends! I made an introduction thread where you can stop by and say hello!
I’d love to get to know you better.
I keep going because you keep reading. Thank you for your support!
You can also give a gift subscription, hit that “Like” button, share, forward, follow on Instagram (@eatwellenough), or otherwise spread the word about this project.
Leave a comment or drop a line at eatwellenough@gmail.com