Oh, the rain. How I love it. The smell, the sound, the fact that I don’t need to water my garden: I love it. I’ve had fires roaring in the fireplace for the past two nights, jazz playing loudly, and cooking lots of food that just hugs you all over.
A few days back I was reading Orangette’s column in Bon Appetit, and remembered how I really wanted to try my hand at meatballs. They fall into that category of food that I’ve not experienced much in my life – kind of like the meatloaf or "Taco Night". And when dining out I will almost always order Pasta alla Carbonara or Penne alla Vodka over Spaghetti and Meatballs. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever ordered Spaghetti and Meatballs.
So, back to the column. I have followed Orangette for years now. Since before her fancy and exciting column in a fancy and shiny magazine. I like her writing, I like her photography, and I almost always like her recipes (of which I have made my fair share). This particular recipe not only caught my eye for its meatball factor, it also caught my eye because it originally came from Carla Leonardi and Jordi Viladas, owners of Café Lago in Seattle.
Before you ask, no, I have never been to Café Lago. Nor have I been to Seattle, actually. But I did make their recipe, Pomodori al Forno, after reading about it in Orangette’s column in the Fall of 2008. Both Chris and I loved it and I have made it many times hence. Anyway, meatball excitement overcame me so I jumped in the car to wrangle up ingredients smack in the middle of the afternoon. I then spent the remainder of the day and night preparing enough spaghetti and meatballs for 10 people. I was all by myself. (Note: Much later that night Maggie ate some. The next day Chris and Maggie ate some more. The day after that I made a meatball sub with some more, and later that night Brandon took the rest home in Tupperware. So it all worked out.)
I had so much fun making these meatballs. I usually hate making a mess and wash my hands constantly. But realizing that there was no way around it, I embraced this tactile experience. With my fingers separated and immersed in the milky, meaty, eggy, bready mess, I melded the ingredients to their proper consistency. By the time I finished rolling them all into perfect golf ball sized spheres and dropped them in the sauce, I was filled with a child-like glee. Bring on the mess!
Then I sat on the couch, in front of the fire, with Ahmad Jamal melting my ears with his beautiful, jazzy mastery on the piano. And waited.
And then, with much anticipation, I served myself a heaping pile of spaghetti and meatballs. I poured a massive glass of Dolcetto. And I very much enjoyed my perfect Fall evening. I may have been the only dinner guest, but I felt entirely embraced by this dish.
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