Had this unholy craving for meatballs. The good kind – you know, the ones that are not dry and gritty from too much breadcrumb filler, the kind that have been given the time to get to know the sauce it’s been swimming in, the ones that just yield effortlessly beneath your fork.
Thought of IKEA, but did not feel like horse meat this week. A fancy Italian restaurant? Didn’t want to spend money for something vague like ambience and be served half eaten plates of food in the name of fine dining.
So I made my own.
Pork and beef mince, grated garlic and onion (this process will make your eyes burn but I assure you, that it’s well worth it), parsley, salt and pepper. Simple and unambitious but tested and true. I needed to minimize the time it takes to get from pan to mouth.
Shaped and sealed in a hot pan. These suckers will spit fat onto arms, legs and face if you’re not careful. But this will be quickly forgiven once you taste them. Into a pot of waiting sauce, meat juices and all. Patience as they bob gently on a slow simmer. Let the sauce reduce until it coats your pasta all thick and sexy.
Tuck in with no apologies.
I made extra, because I am going to eat the leftovers in a giant meatball sub covered in cheese for supper later.
Be right back. I am going to need two hands for this.