Diagnosed with celiac in 2008, I've been thinking a lot lately of the foods I miss the most. And, having been snowed in for six days straight, I'm having hallucinations involving grilled cheese sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, and other delicious cold-weather comfort foods I'll never be able to eat again.
One food in particular I really miss is a Vietnamese sandwich called Banh Mi. I'd only had maybe 5 or 6 of them in my life before gluten -- and thus a banh mi's crusty, lovely baguette -- was no longer my friend, so it's a nostalgia tinged with a lot of regret that I hadn't eaten more of them when I still could.
I've always been terrible at cooking any kind of Asian food here at home. It's just not something I do well, so I leave it to the experts and eat it in their restaurants or get carryout to bring home. But more and more, I've been thinking about and craving banh mi, and wanting to find a way to bring the flavors together in a way that I can enjoy them. So, what better way, I figured, than in a meatball?!
Something warm and porky and toasty and fragrant with crunchy Do Chua (pickled daikon radish and carrot) and cool cucumber. All in one little bite. Sign me the hell up.
1 lb. ground pork (from Smith Meadows Farm)
20 g mayonnaise (a heaping tablespoon)
1 medium egg
40g bread crumbs; I used gluten-free white sandwich bread to make mine (about 1C)
2 Thai chili peppers (seeded, minced)
15 g soy sauce; I used gluten-free tamari sauce (2T)
2 g kosher salt (a two pinches)
Combine above ingredients, then mix in some diced or minced Do Chua. I made my Do Chua ahead of time (and, since I didn't have any daikon radish on hand, I used rutabaga but added fresh grated ginger to the brine to make it feel more radish-y). I chopped the Do Chua from matchsticks down to a small dice before mixing it in with the meat. I didn't measure how much I added -- it was probably 3/4C. A full cup would be fine, too.
Roll the mixture into small meatballs (mine were slightly larger than 1T, but not as large as a ping-pong ball; somewhere in between -- maybe the size of a walnut) between the palms of your hands -- you should have about 30 meatballs. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and store in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.
Preheat oven to 350F.
In a large saute pan, I heated 2 parts canola oil to one part sesame oil (just enough to barely cover the bottom of the pan) and brought it to a shimmer. Not sure of the exact measurements here -- it was probably 4 glugs of canola and 2 glugs of sesame oil. I turned the burner on high to heat the oil and once it began to shimmer, I turned it down to about a 5 or 6 out of 10 on the dial when I put the meatballs in. I rolled the meatballs in a combination of white rice flour and tapioca flour prior to putting them in the pan. I browned them evenly in the hot oil, careful not to overcook or char them.
I removed them from the saute pan and placed them on a fresh parchment-lined baking sheet and put them in the oven for 10 minutes to warm through. When I opened the oven door, they were so fragrant and so amazing, I knew I was in for a treat.
I made cucumber ribbons by peeling a cucumber with a vegetable peeler, and wrapped one around each meatball, then topped it with some more finely diced Do Chua. Lovely little bite on a spoon. Really tasty and full of flavor. The texture was fantastic, and the balance of meat and do chua was really, really nice.
Ya know, I kinda winged it on these meatballs, and they ended up being pretty freakin' delicious. I'd love to figure out some kind of sauce that these could simmer in, and then be tossed with some rice noodles. But for now, I'm quite content to pop them in my mouth, one by one, and enjoy these amazing little bites of banh mi.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Meatballs of My People
Today was one of those days where things weren't going wrong... they just weren't going right. It felt like I had a hangover all day long, and yet, I hadn't been drinking the night before. The combination of blah weather, work frustrations, a nagging headache that wouldn't go away, and the inability to focus on one thing for more than 20 minutes made for a very cranky Carol. To top it off, nothing seemed to be doing the trick for me food-wise. I was hungry, but nothing in the fridge called out to me (despite being chock full of goodies from yesterday's farmers market run). Nothing in the pantry was at all appealing. I ended up snacking on some unsatisfying Thai food leftovers, eating half a bag of potato chips, and longed for the days when I could pour myself a bowl of cereal, cover it in cold whole milk, and just wallow in some Lucky Charms.
Knowing my day had gone to shit productivity-wise, I decided to get out of the house for a few minutes in the late afternoon and run a few errands, one of which was going to the grocery store to pick up some laundry detergent. When I walked through the whoosh of the sliding glass doors of my local Giant, there it was -- inspiration in an endcap: three shelves of Welch's grape jelly. I knew then exactly what would make me feel better.
I grabbed a jar of the jelly, a bottle of Heinz chili sauce, and a shallot and headed home (yep, forgot the laundry detergent I went for in the first place) to make what I call The Meatballs of My People. And by "My People," I don't mean the Pennsylvania Dutch, the Irish, or the German. I mean, the meatballs any of us who grew up in the 60s, 70s, and 80s in middle-class America loved to eat: beef meatballs in a grape jelly-chili sauce sauce. These meatballs were front and center at many a family function or friend's party when I was growing up. Usually in a crockpot, usually eaten one-by-one with a toothpick. Disgusting and awesome all at the same time. Typically made with frozen meatballs, but that wasn't the case tonight. Why? Because I MAKE MEATBALLS, that's why.
I smiled at the cashier when she handed me my change. I sang along with the radio in the car the whole way home. And, I practically skipped up the front walk to my house. Even though the sun had begun to set, my day was finally starting to look up. I came inside, defrosted some ground beef, and got to work.
The Meatballs of My People
1 lb. ground beef (from Smith Meadows Farm)
1/2 C bread crumbs (I whacked 2 slices of EnerG tapioca bread in the food processor)
1/4 C whole milk
1 egg
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 shallot, minced
1/2 tsp. Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce
1 18-oz. jar Welch's grape jelly
1 16-oz. bottle Heinz chili sauce
Preheat oven to 350F degrees.
In a large bowl, combine beef, bread crumbs, milk, egg, salt, shallot, and Worcestershire sauce. Mix with hands until ingredients are fully incorporated.
Roll beef mixture into small balls (3/4" is perfect, no larger than 1") and place on baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes.
While meatballs are baking, combine jelly and chili sauce in medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a simmer. When meatballs are done baking, plonk them into the sauce, cover the pan, and allow them to simmer for an hour over low heat.
(makes 36 meatballs)
While the meatballs were simmering in the sauce, I did a few of the things on my to-do list that had been nagging at me all day long. I tied up some loose ends with clients. And, I returned a few phone calls. All things I should've done earlier in the day but just couldn't get my shit together to be motivated enough to do.
Behold, the power of making meatballs. It's good for thy productivity.
They begged to be eaten with a toothpick, but I didn't have any. So, I was a tad more refined and speared them, one-by-one with a fork, and savored every bite. Sweet, tangy, beefy, hearty... exactly as I'd remembered them, only better. Eating them made me thirsty for a tall glass of cold milk (a craving I was happy to indulge). And now, strangely enough, I want to start a card club, wear bell bottoms, and make a Jell-o mold.
Knowing my day had gone to shit productivity-wise, I decided to get out of the house for a few minutes in the late afternoon and run a few errands, one of which was going to the grocery store to pick up some laundry detergent. When I walked through the whoosh of the sliding glass doors of my local Giant, there it was -- inspiration in an endcap: three shelves of Welch's grape jelly. I knew then exactly what would make me feel better.
I grabbed a jar of the jelly, a bottle of Heinz chili sauce, and a shallot and headed home (yep, forgot the laundry detergent I went for in the first place) to make what I call The Meatballs of My People. And by "My People," I don't mean the Pennsylvania Dutch, the Irish, or the German. I mean, the meatballs any of us who grew up in the 60s, 70s, and 80s in middle-class America loved to eat: beef meatballs in a grape jelly-chili sauce sauce. These meatballs were front and center at many a family function or friend's party when I was growing up. Usually in a crockpot, usually eaten one-by-one with a toothpick. Disgusting and awesome all at the same time. Typically made with frozen meatballs, but that wasn't the case tonight. Why? Because I MAKE MEATBALLS, that's why.
I smiled at the cashier when she handed me my change. I sang along with the radio in the car the whole way home. And, I practically skipped up the front walk to my house. Even though the sun had begun to set, my day was finally starting to look up. I came inside, defrosted some ground beef, and got to work.
The Meatballs of My People
1 lb. ground beef (from Smith Meadows Farm)
1/2 C bread crumbs (I whacked 2 slices of EnerG tapioca bread in the food processor)
1/4 C whole milk
1 egg
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 shallot, minced
1/2 tsp. Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce
1 18-oz. jar Welch's grape jelly
1 16-oz. bottle Heinz chili sauce
Preheat oven to 350F degrees.
In a large bowl, combine beef, bread crumbs, milk, egg, salt, shallot, and Worcestershire sauce. Mix with hands until ingredients are fully incorporated.
Roll beef mixture into small balls (3/4" is perfect, no larger than 1") and place on baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes.
While meatballs are baking, combine jelly and chili sauce in medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a simmer. When meatballs are done baking, plonk them into the sauce, cover the pan, and allow them to simmer for an hour over low heat.
(makes 36 meatballs)
While the meatballs were simmering in the sauce, I did a few of the things on my to-do list that had been nagging at me all day long. I tied up some loose ends with clients. And, I returned a few phone calls. All things I should've done earlier in the day but just couldn't get my shit together to be motivated enough to do.
Behold, the power of making meatballs. It's good for thy productivity.
They begged to be eaten with a toothpick, but I didn't have any. So, I was a tad more refined and speared them, one-by-one with a fork, and savored every bite. Sweet, tangy, beefy, hearty... exactly as I'd remembered them, only better. Eating them made me thirsty for a tall glass of cold milk (a craving I was happy to indulge). And now, strangely enough, I want to start a card club, wear bell bottoms, and make a Jell-o mold.
Labels:
beef,
chili sauce,
comfort,
grape jelly,
retro,
shallot
Friday, November 13, 2009
Meatballs in the News: Try not to barf
Can you eat 50 meatballs in 6 minutes? This guy can. Although, as much as I love meatballs, the photo accompanying this news story kinda makes me wanna hurl.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
My food on a plate with a James Beard winner's food -- ALERT THE MEDIA!!!
You know what's really great about meatballs? I mean, apart from how easy they are to make and how awesome they taste?
You can have them again, the night after you made them -- I mean, you made 64 of them and even though you are a connoisseur of all things carnivore, you aren't that big of a hog that you'd eat all 64 in one sitting -- and THIS TIME, you pair them with mashed potatoes left over from the lunch prepared for you by a James Beard Award-winning chef. And, you can read Ad Hoc at Home while you eat them. And, you can drink a glass of Etude pinot noir rose, which, holycowIamjustnowrealizing, you had for the first time at Ad Hoc.
And THAT, my friends, it what's so awesome about meatballs.
This is how we roll in the Blymire house.
I know. Admit it. You wish you were me.
Meatballs!!!!
You can have them again, the night after you made them -- I mean, you made 64 of them and even though you are a connoisseur of all things carnivore, you aren't that big of a hog that you'd eat all 64 in one sitting -- and THIS TIME, you pair them with mashed potatoes left over from the lunch prepared for you by a James Beard Award-winning chef. And, you can read Ad Hoc at Home while you eat them. And, you can drink a glass of Etude pinot noir rose, which, holycowIamjustnowrealizing, you had for the first time at Ad Hoc.
And THAT, my friends, it what's so awesome about meatballs.
This is how we roll in the Blymire house.
I know. Admit it. You wish you were me.
Meatballs!!!!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Meatballs You Will Pine For
The craving hit me out of nowhere.
I needed meatballs. I needed to stop what I was doing and make them immediately.
I had three kinds of ground meat in the fridge from the farmers' market on Sunday and just pulled this recipe together based on what I already had here at home. Much to my surprise and delight, these exceeded any expectation I had and completely blew me away.
I hope you love them as much as I do.
=====================================
Meatballs You Will Pine For
Preheat oven to 400F/204C.
3 shallots, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
6-8 stalks chard, stems removed, leaves chopped or julienned
1/2 C pine nuts
1 T olive oil
1 T butter
Heat butter and olive oil in saute pan over medium-high heat. Toss in shallots, then pine nuts, then garlic, then chard. Cook over low heat, stirring gently, until chard is slightly limp. Remove from heat.
In a medium mixing bowl, combine:
3 C bread (torn from whole pieces; I used Ener-G gluten-free tapioca bread)
2 C whole or 2% milk
Let bread soak up milk (should take a minute or two).
In a large mixing bowl, combine:
1 lb. ground veal
1 lb. ground pork
1 lb. ground beef
3 eggs, lightly whisked/beaten
1 C freshly grated parmagiano-reggiano
2 T pineapple sage, finely chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste
Before mixing everything with your hands, squeeze the milk from the bread and toss the bread in the bowl. Then, add the chard-shallot-pine-nut-garlic mixture. Now, get in there and mix everything together with your hands until all the ingredients are incorporated. If you are squeamish and even think about trying to mix this with a spoon or some other utensil, I am going to leap through the computer and slap you silly. The only thing that works here is your hands. Trust me.
Roll into 1" balls.
Bake on a Silpat-lined baking sheet for 20 minutes.
Should make 64 glorious balls of meaty deliciousness.
I ended up eating six of them straight from the baking sheet, a minute or two after they came out of the oven. I could've eaten a dozen or more, they were that good. WOW. I didn't even bother with a plate. Fork to baking sheet to spear meatball, fork to mouth. Repeat. Often.
The chard and pine nuts add a nice texture, and the meat was cooked perfectly. While I love onion, I didn't have any here at the house, and the shallots were even better than the onion could have been. They're a little sweeter, and a little less onion-y, so the shallot flavor complemented everything else. The garlic adds a nice blip and the chard makes me feel like I'm eating my vegetables with my meat -- besides which, it, along with the parm-reg, adds a little nutty flavor.
After downing six of them straight away, I wondered: I wonder if any of the condiments I have in the fridge might make these even better?
Clockwise from the top: Plain old meatball, ketchup, honey mustard, horseradish, Sriracha sauce, BLiS maple syrup.
I love ketchup on my meatloaf, so ketchup on a meatball is a no-brainer. The honey mustard was surprisingly good. The horseradish? Meh. The Sriracha? FANTASTIC. But the maple syrup????? Off the freakin' charts. And, it makes me think I can now have these bad boys for breakfast, too. A little meatball with some maple syrup? Peace out pancakes... who needs ya?
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