Weeknight Dinner: Turkey Meatballs with Pasta
I am sitting in an office building on a
Friday night as I write this. It is not one of the time capsule skyscrapers of DTLA or the office park cluster of Century City, but a
four-story structure on Santa Monica Boulevard familiar to any resident of West Hollywood. Its corridors, beige by design, smelling
of disinfectant, could be lifted from any anonymous hallway of
accountants and tax attorneys anywhere. This waiting room has been
decorated in tones of silver and grey, with just enough teak to warm
the vibe while soothing the nerves. I like it. A designer's eye is
evident, toned by a designer's restraint. The touches are nice but
not overplayed. Birch candles emit a familiarizing glow. A machine
huffs out a watery fragrance at regulated intervals. A white lady slipper orchid looks, as plants in medical offices so often do not,
to be thriving. Perhaps there is something to this Southern California wisdom, which I initially discredited as a conceit, of good
vibrations.
Someone has strung a garland of ochre leaves at the reception window, but I already know it's autumn. I
usually get depressed around Thanksgiving, so I was expecting it.
It's not too bad this year, just a general melancholia that may be as
much a result of being in my fifties as anything else. But I must
admit that I do miss New York City from time to time, especially at
the holidays. There is nothing like city bustle to put me in a
festive mood. But then, as I always say, I would miss New York if I
was there. The city has changed so much, as urban areas do. It turns
out there is a special pain that arises from being surrounded by memories. It is painful one way as context is taken away from you;
painful another way as context closes in. Maybe it's simply mourning.
We are in the somber season of Samhain, so that would be appropriate.
No doubt some veteran WeHovian feels the same way about all of the
construction marring our sunset skyline, about me as a whippersnapper
even though somehow I've already lived here for half of a decade.
During that half decade, not only did
my geography change, so, it turns out, did many of my relationships.
Some strengthened and new ones appeared or reappeared as pleasant
surprises. And some, sad to say, got worse, withered, may be dying on
discolored vines. But then that's what friends do: as time passes,
they reveal their true selves. Sometimes in so doing, in a mechanism
of a profound sadness for which there are no words, they reveal that
they are not, in fact, friends at all. Maybe they never were. They
were in proximity, maybe you shared fun together, maybe even bonded,
but ultimately it is demonstrable that they did not, and do not, have
your best interests at heart. Or if they do, it is only at heart, and
how they behave in the real world, beyond sentiment, both shows and
tells the truth.
In the carefully silvered twilight of
this medical office on a Friday night, I think of my husband, behind
closed doors as he struggles with deep depression and crippling
anxiety at levels most people, even experts, are surprised to learn
exist. For decades, among other things it has caused us to miss or cancel plans for
which, at the time, people gave me grief.
Just as I'm sure I've hurt and disappointed people, it is also true that I have been punished where others were rewarded. Like most of us, I've been in situations mishandled, used as a conduit to criticize those who told themselves that I
required special handling. I didn't. But people make mistakes, often unknowingly. People who love each other forgive, often to learn how little, if anything, there ever was to forgive.
If this Thanksgiving I stumble over
gratitude, it is at the hard lessons of rue. I can't say that nothing
is the same, though so much isn't, but I can say that much of what was good remains so. For two decades in New York, Thanksgiving was the best day of the year, for reasons that I and others have written about. Some of those writers, young and hungry at the time,
have gone on to great, deserved careers. I am pleased and humbled
that, all those years ago, when they were disgruntled or down or
struggling, Mama Diva and I fed them. In so doing, we introduced them
to a Thanksgiving without strife, true to the gratitude that is the
reason Thanksgiving exists. We took care of each other while leaving
no one out in the cold. When John and I could finally get married,
they gave us a marriage ceremony and a reception. When Mama Diva
passed over, they accompanied me to the funeral that John did not
have the capacity to attend.
I don't know why I turn for comfort to
food in a bowl, but I do. For some it's cold cereal, for others, hot soup. For me, it's a bowl of hefty pasta and lighter-than-air
meatballs, aswim in lemony broth. It's a recipe from Mama Diva's
secret stash of them, reflective of her city roots in Little Italy. Her idol was Frank Sinatra, who along with Dinah Washington provided the soundtrack for Thanksgiving. With wit as acerbic as her
gin gimlet, she referred to this meal as Honor Among Thieves. I always thought the
name alluded to what seems like an unlikely alliance
between turkey, bacon, and pasta. But having recently resurrected
this recipe to make myself feel better, I believe the term is as
literal as symbolic. Food is our great equalizer, and the skewed
perspective of a dish that most associate with red sauce and Parmesan
leads to the revelations - not always pleasant, but freeing in their way – of harmony through discordance. Then again, perhaps I freight this simple bowl
of pasta with too much significance. If so, that is the beauty of
shared experience. It is Thanksgiving. I am depressed and I feel a
bit battered. As Mama Diva knew, honor among thieves can both hurt and heal.
Turkey Meatballs with Pasta (Honor Among Thieves)
Serve this recipe with a whirl of
long-cut pasta: fettuccine, linguine, or bucatini. Pancetta is a cure
of salumi – if your deli doesn't have it diced, ask them to grind a
thick slice of it while you do the rest of your shopping. Click here
to learn the mini kitchen prep and microplane citrus zester I like, and
click here to learn how to clean and degrit leeks. This meal serves
four, but you can freeze half of the meatballs and make a half
portion of pasta and broth for dinner for two.
For the meatballs
1 pound ground turkey
¼ pound pancetta, diced or ground
1 small white onion
2 cloves garlic, peeled and pithed
2/3 cup plain bread crumbs
1 large egg
1 lemon
2 teaspoons dried rubbed sage
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
For the pasta and broth
2 leeks, white and pale green parts,
cleaned and cut into small coins
2 cloves garlic, peeled and pithed,
coarsely chopped
1 pound long-cut pasta, such as
fettuccine, linguine, or bucatini
1/3 cup dry vermouth
1-1/2 cups chicken stock
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Freshly grated Parmesan for serving
Make the meatballs
1-1/2 hours before cooking
- Peel the onion and remove the stem and blossom ends. Coarsely chop the onion into large pieces and place the pieces into a mini kitchen prep. Safely use the kitchen prep to finely chop the onion.
- Measure out ¾ cup chopped onion. Store any left over onion into a plastic bag for another use.
- Crumble the turkey into a large mixing bowl. Add the onion, bread crumbs, pancetta, sage, a dash of salt, and several grindings of fresh black pepper to the bowl. Press the garlic into the bowl.
- Use a microplane zester to zest the lemon into the bowl. Try just to get the bright yellow zest without any of the bitter white peel.
- Safely use two butter knives at an angle to each other to loosely mix the meatball mixture together. It will not be perfect; you just want all of the ingredients incorporated while still dry.
- Crack the egg into the bowl containing the meatball mixture. Use the knives at an angle to each other to mix the meatball mixture so that all of the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated.
- Place a clean bowl beside the bowl containing the meatball mixture. Wet your hands.
- Use two tablespoons to scoop out a spoonful of the mixture. Roll the mixture between your palms to form a meatball about 1-1/2 inches in diameter, being sure to press the mixture together without making it too dense. You will get the hang of it after the first couple of tries.
- Place the meatballs in the clean bowl as you go. Once you've made all of the meatballs, cover the bowl with its lid or with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator. Refrigerate the meatballs for one hour before cooking them.
Cook the meal
- For the pasta: Fill a pot large enough to hold the pasta with water and generously salt the water. Bring the water to a boil over high heat. Safely add the pasta to the boiling water. Cook the pasta according to package directions until al dente. Once the pasta is cooked, turn off the burner, drain the pasta, return the pasta to the hot pan, and cover the pan to keep the pasta warm until ready to serve.
- For the meatballs: Pour a five count of extra-virgin olive oil into a large frying pan. Heat the oil over medium heat until shimmering. Working in batches if necessary, safely place a layer of chilled meatballs into the hot oil without crowding the pan. Cook the meatballs, gently and safely shaking the pan to turn the meatballs in the hot oil, replenishing the oil if the pan runs dry, until cooked through, about 10 minutes. The meatballs are ready when they are slightly charred and very fragrant.
- For the broth: Pour a five count of extra-virgin olive oil into a large saute pan. Heat the oil over medium heat until shimmering. Turn the burner to medium low. Gently and safely place the leeks into the hot oil in a single layer. Sprinkle the leeks with the chopped garlic. Cook the garlic-leek mixture until the leeks are nicely caramelized, approximately 10 minutes.
- Remove the pan of leeks and garlic from the heat and gently pour the vermouth into the pan. Gently and safely swirl the mixture until the alcohol burns off, about ten seconds.
- Return the pan to the heat. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
- Add the chicken broth to the pan. Working over a sieve, juice the zested lemon into the pan.
- Use the spoon the mix the seasoned broth and vegetables together. Cover the pan and simmer over low heat until ready to serve.
- Use tongs to place a nice swirl of pasta into four deep bowls.
- Divide the meatballs among the four bowls.
- Use a slotted spoon to divide the leek mixture among the four bowls.
- Divide the broth among the four bowls.
- Serve immediately with fresh Parmesan.
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