Meatballs begin with ground meat, which is traditionally made from the parts of an animal that aren't otherwise easy to eat. In other words, the cheaper cuts.
But the glory of peasant food is that cooks developed clever ways to bring tremendous flavor to the foods that wealthier people did not want to eat. And so the world has benefited with a host of wonderful stews, tagines, congees _ and meatballs.
As with many foods of humble origins, meatballs have long been co-opted by the rest of the world; they now appear on the menus of the trendiest restaurants, often as an appetizer or a small plate. They aren't just for spaghetti anymore.
In fact, they never were for spaghetti, at least not in Italy. Although Italians are fond of their home-cooked meatballs called polpettes, they are never served with spaghetti, except to American tourists.
And meatballs aren't even just Italian. Swedish meatballs are well known, of course, but just about every cuisine has its own variation on the idea.
I decided to make four types of meatballs: French, Chinese, Spanish and one that my wife created, so I'm going to call it American. Not one of them uses grape jelly for a sauce, which is probably the most American recipe for meatballs ever.
I did not make Italian meatballs, because I already wrote about one recipe for them a few years ago, and they are the best possible Italian meatballs imaginable. They are the platonic ideal of Italian meatballs, and any alternative recipe I could come up with would only be a poor imitation.
The ones I made this week aren't quite that perfect _ what is? _ but they are all excellent and worth including in one's repertoire.
I think the Spanish meatballs I made, Meatballs in Almond Sauce, were my favorite. And it wasn't the meatballs themselves that made the dish; they were fairly standard, with a non unusual inclusion of soaked bread mixed into the meat to make them more tender and moist (they are also flavored with onion, garlic and parsley).
What makes the dish so spectacular is the almond sauce. Chicken stock and white wine are simmered together with saffron (saffron!), lemon zest and a bit of sugar. Meanwhile, you toast almonds together with garlic and a slice of bread, mash it into a paste and mix the paste with the rest of the sauce.
The meatballs are first fried, which always ramps up the flavor, and then simmered in the sauce. The mixture of almonds and saffron (saffron!), with hints of garlic and wine, is sheer beauty.
The Chinese meatballs I made, called Lion's Heads, are also fried first. Then they are steamed until fully cooked, a process that, surprisingly, does little to diminish the crisp exterior.
Mixed in with the pork is essentially all of the ingredients in the larder at any Chinese restaurant: black mushrooms, water chestnuts, ginger, scallions, garlic, sesame oil, dry sherry and soy sauce.
Only one ingredient is unexpected, the grated rind of an orange. It adds a citrus kick and a mysterious allure to the meatballs that is unmistakable. Once you taste it, you won't want to do without it.
The chicken meatballs _ my wife's recipe _ were the lightest and most moist batch of all. The secret here was not just using chicken instead of pork or beef for the meat (and ground turkey works well, too). These meatballs derive their ethereal texture and flavor from the liberal use of chopped mushrooms and sauteed onions.
It helps, too, that they are honeycombed with parsley and Parmesan. You finish cooking the meatballs in white wine, plus all of the good flavor bits on the bottom, which yields a truly memorable sauce and gives the meat a heady aroma.
The last meatballs I made come from France, where they are typically made as a way to use up leftover cooked beef. The meat is finely chopped _ a food processor works wonders here _ and mixed with a host of aromatics to give it a most satisfying, well-rounded flavor.
They are quite good on their own, though a bit reminiscent of ordinary meatballs. What makes these ones extraordinary is, again, the sauce.
At fancy French restaurants, a financiere sauce is as elegant as its name implies. It involves demiglace and truffles and Madeira wine, or maybe Sauternes. But when French families make it at home, according to Jacques Pepin, it is usually a tomato sauce with mushrooms and olives.
That's the sauce I made, and it was grand. There is nothing humble about beef boulettes or a financiere sauce.
