Pun-free Meatballs

The mere utterance of the word "meatball" is usually enough to conjure an untoward image in the listener's mind.  What is it about this combination of meat and grain that fosters such prurient thoughts?  Is it the spherical shape?  The carnal allure of flesh?  Or just the way the words hang together?

Meat.  Ball.  Meatball.

For the remaining paragraphs, I'm going to ask all of you to grow up.  Get those sexual notions out of your brain and concentrate on this misunderstood and under-appreciated food, the delectable creation that is the meatball.  Feel free to return your mind to the gutter as soon as we're finished.

As I've mentioned before, I grew up in a big Italian family.  We used to go to Aunt Sarah's just about every Sunday for spaghetti dinner.  We used to go there in the middle of the week so I could play with my cousins and eat Spaghetti-Os out of a can too.  Part and parcel.  Anyway, being first generation Italian-Americans, Sarah and her sisters learned to cook from their mother, who learned to cook in that funny looking boot-shaped country.  A fair amount gets lost in translation on the way down, but those Sunday dinners, to the best of my recollection, were fairly well-informed in the old ways, even if everything was bought at the supermarket instead of grown in the backyard.

I learned a fair bit about cooking from my mom (who learned from her mom, who learned from her mom, who learned on the boot, remember?), but I've also done a lot of digging into traditional Italian culinary history.  The meatball, believe it or not, can be traced back to the Apicius, the oldest surviving cookbook in the world.  The recipe hasn't changed too dramatically in the last two thousand years: minced meat, moistened bread and spices, cooked in liquid.  Of course Marcus Apicus recommended a mixture of peacock meat with wine-soaked bread and garum (common Roman condiment similar to Thai fish sauce), all wrapped in pork caul, the natural webbed fat that surrounds pig intestines.  That part of the recipe has changed quite a bit.

I've tried quite a few variations on the so-called "authentic" Italian meatball before settling on a recipe that I like.  I don't use veal because every creature deserves the right to grow up before the world eats it.  I don't use milk-soaked bread anymore because it's difficult to maintain cohesion with that much moisture in play.  I don't use a lot of unnecessary spices either.  Italian cooking is about simplicity, and if you follow these simple steps, you'll be richly rewarded.

First, get a stock pot out and dump about a half gallon (three 1.5 pound jars) of marinara sauce in there, plus another 2-3 cups of water.  Heat it up to a nice, even simmer.  You're going to be cooking the meatballs in this sauce, so make sure it's flavored to your liking before you drop the meat in.  While that's warming up, mince one shallot and two garlic cloves.  Heat some olive oil in a small skillet and saute the shallot and garlic until it softens up a bit.  Don't burn the garlic!

Put one pound of ground beef (80/20 is best, no leaner than 85/15) and one pound of hot Italian sausage in a bowl.  I make my own bulk sausage, but if you have a store-bought favorite you should use it.  I prefer hot Italian sausage - heavy on the red pepper flakes and fennel seeds - because I like a spicy meatball, but if you're not into all that heat then a sweet Italian sausage will do just fine.

To your two pounds of meat, you're going to add one cup of dry bread crumbs, two eggs, three tablespoons of fresh Italian flat leaf parsley, 3 oz. of ricotta cheese, 3 oz. of grated Parmesan or Romano cheese (or 1.5 oz. of each), 1/2 teaspoon each of salt and pepper (I use Penzey's Black & Red when I want to kick up the heat even further), and the shallots and garlic you sauteed earlier.

 This is the fun part.  Give your hands a coating of olive oil (so the meat won't stick to them), then mix up all those ingredients until the glob of meat is uniform.  You shouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two meats anymore, nor should you have any obvious clumps of cheese or breadcrumbs.  Once that's done, heat up that skillet again, make a small meat patty and cook it up.  Taste it and make sure the flavor and texture are to your liking.  This is the last chance you'll have to adjust anything.

Oil up your hands again and start forming your meatballs.  I find that a one-inch ball is just about perfect in terms of presentation size vs. braising time.  Two pounds of meat plus the additional ingredients should yield between 25-30 meat balls.  You could make them bigger if you want a "wow" factor; cooking them in sauce means they won't dry out, though I've had issues with large meatballs and desirable texture.  You could also make marble-sized polpettine if you like, but I don't understand the appeal.

As you roll these out, gently drop them into the sauce, starting around the edge of the pot and working your way toward the middle.  Once they're all in there, give the pot a little jiggle to let all the balls settle in.  DO NOT STIR YET!  The meatballs are still fragile and you don't want to bust them up before they get a chance to set, which will happen in about 15 minutes.  I generally pull one out after about 20 minutes to do a doneness check.  You're looking for 165 degrees if you're using a thermometer.  You can also cut one open and see what color they are inside.  You're looking for tannish-brown without any traces of red rawness.

When the meatballs are done, serve them however you'd like.  In our house, it's usually on top of a pile of spaghetti with garlic bread, on the first night at least.  If you're not feeding a big Italian family, you're going to have a bunch of leftover meatballs and more sauce than you know what to do with.  Some ideas for leftovers...

 How about a toasted meatball sub with shaved smoked provolone and garnished with fresh parsley?

Or a pan of lasagna?  I know you've got enough sauce left over and probably a whole bunch of ricotta too.  Grind up those leftover meatballs and throw in some fresh spinach between those layers of pasta.

Whip up an Italian omelet for breakfast.  Saute onions, mushrooms and bell peppers, combine with chopped meatballs and ricotta cheese for the filling, then top with marinara, fresh parley and lightly shredded Parmesan.  Bacon and pepperoni bread optional.