My grandmother's meatball recipe isn't the most spectacular in the world; I'm sure many others are more flavorful, or more unique. But I've been craving those meatballs for the last few weeks nonetheless.
Yesterday afternoon I took a pound each of ground turkey and lean ground beef out of the freezer. Good, safe cook that I am, I put the packages in the refrigerator to thaw.
Sometimes being a good girl doesn't pay off.
When I went to start the meatballs two hours ago, I discovered that the turkey wasn't yet completely thawed. Grrr. Broke it up, stuck it in a bowl and set it on the (unlit) range to finish thawing, e coli be damned.
I really should have taken that as a sign.
As I was freezing my hand off mixing the fragrant spices, eggs, breadcrumbs and meat, it finally dawned on me that my grandmother routinely fed five or six people for meals. Two pounds of meat would yeild a whole lotta balls. Sigh. Too late to turn back.
For the record: Two pounds of meat yields twenty-one meatballs the size of a scoop of ice cream that would fit nicely in the top of a standard waffle cone.
While the first batch browned, I dumped the sauce into the largest dutch oven I own. Hmm. One jar wasn't going to cover the abundance of meat. Add a bit of water, plus a can of stewed tomatoes. Finish browning the meat, dump into the sauce, stir and simmer for an hour and a half.
It smells wonderful in here, in spite of the fact that it will be over an hour until anything is ready to eat. I may need to sneak a sauce sandwich (old Sicilian way of "testing" the sauce - either dip in a chunk of bread, or spread some of the warm sauce on a slice) to tide me over until they are ready.