Meatball

When we opened the Shop, these Mediterranean balls were our first daily special. We were so busy that we didn’t get a chance to change it for three weeks, but nobody really complained because they were so delicious. People still get excited when we bring them back for a day or two. The raisins and walnuts give this ball a subtly sweet and earthy quality that complements the lamb. Make these into mini balls and pass them around at your next party. Just add toothpicks and Spinach-Basil Pesto (page 58) for dip. No sauce required. Or serve them over a bed of Braised Kale with Anchovies and Garlic (page 93) or Creamed Spinach (page 100).

The aromatic flavors of a rich fish stew all rolled up in a ball—how’d we do it? A generous splash of Pernod, along with a pinch of fragrant saffron, transports you straight to the Mediterranean coast. We use a firm white fish like tilapia, but feel free to substitute any similarly textured fish. Serve these alongside any of the risottos offered in Chapter 3 (see pages 74 to 77).

With just enough spice to tickle the tongue, these balls are the ultimate crowd-pleasers. Whenever we have a large event to cook for, we always bring our Spicy Pork Balls. In terms of the meat for these balls, ask your butcher to grind some pork shoulder. It’s inexpensive and full of flavor, and it’s a cut we really love. Instead of using bread crumbs, as we do with most meatballs, we use fresh white bread, which makes for a lighter meatball. The ideal way to serve these is over a bed of Creamy Polenta (page 78) with a hearty ladleful of Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57).

Call them meatballs or call them crab cakes. Either way, they’re an addictive hit. The succulent sweetness of crab is paired with classic Old Bay Seasoning, but it gets a texture twist with the addition of crunchy, salty potato chips. This is the perfect party snack or starter, and it can be thrown together and ready in under fifteen minutes. Serve these balls skewered with toothpicks, with our Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56) or with tartar sauce, or toss them with pasta and tomato sauce for a hearty seafood pasta.

Here earthy ingredients from sunny Spain come together for a richly flavored meatball. A sharp Manchego sheep’s milk cheese and paprika-spiced chorizo sausage are mixed with ground pork and just a hint of red pepper flakes and garlic. When rolled into minis, these are a tapas treat. These balls stand up to the Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57) but go just as well with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

Sometimes you just gotta take a break from hard-core carnivordom, and these are the way to go—just ask our staff, who eat them around the clock. These balls happen to be Mike’s favorite, too. You’ll often find us at the bar with a big bowl, topped with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56) or Spinach-Basil Pesto (page 58) and a side of steamed or sautéed spinach. And when it comes to kids, this is a great and tasty way to sneak in more veggies.

At the shop we think all holidays deserve their own meatball. In New York City, Saint Patrick’s Day is a big deal, celebrated with a major parade, and so of course a meatball was born. These are a clever twist on the usual corned beef and cabbage pairing, and they were so popular that now we serve them throughout the year. We’re not fans of artificial coloring but we suppose you could even dye them green if you wanted to. We love to serve them with Mashed Potatoes (page 79) and Mushroom Gravy (page 63).

These are the sleeper hit at the shop and star in our Chicken Parm slider. Guests are always surprised by the moistness and rich taste of these balls, and the secret is ground thigh meat. Chicken thighs are packed with flavor and are a better choice than the usual dry breast meat. Try these balls with Spinach-Basil Pesto (page 58) or Parmesan Cream Sauce (page 60). You can substitute ground turkey if you can’t find ground chicken.

When a prominent bourbon company called and asked if we would develop a meatball for them, we were all over it—we had wanted to run a BBQ meatball on the menu since the Shop opened. All that was needed was a Lower East Side (L.E.S.) barbecue sauce, which, when mixed with some sautéed onions and freshly ground pork, became the official recipe for the Shop’s BBQ balls. So the next time you want some quick ’cue, instead of slaving over the grill, you can prepare these balls ahead and spend some QT with your guests.

When we think of sun-drenched Greece, we think of olives, feta cheese, preserved lemons, and oregano. These salty, tangy, and fragrant ingredients instantly transport us to the Mediterranean islands. These meatballs capture the essence of Greek flavors and roll it all up into a meatball. You can buy preserved lemons, but our quickie recipe below is a no-brainer. Serve with a big ladleful of Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

These balls will definitely get any party started. Buffalo’s finest bar food minus the bones makes it the perfect food to serve up for the big game, a surprising appetizer, or even passed as a fancy hors d’oeuvre. It’s the best part of hot and spicy wings with none of the mess. If you like your balls extra spicy, you can always add an extra tablespoon or two of hot sauce to the recipe. Make one batch and you’ll know why these are a staff fave and top seller at the Shop. Serve with Blue Cheese Dressing (page 70).

Here they are—the top sellers at the Shop and sure to be a big hit at home. Most traditional meatball recipes call for Parmesan or pecorino cheese. While we’re big fans of these stronger cheeses, we prefer ricotta. It’s our secret weapon. The mild and creamy consistency of this fresh cheese gives the meatballs a unique, light texture. Beef has a subtle flavor, and the ricotta is a great way to add fat and moisture to the recipe without the overpowering flavor of a sharper cheese. These are quick to prep, and baking rather than frying makes this a fast comfort food even during the busiest of weeks.

Not so big, not so easy, but delicious nonetheless! These mini balls deliver the spirit and soul of one of the greatest food cities in the world—New Orleans. Down there, they make jambalaya a hundred different ways, and after a trip to Jazz Fest, we decided to try our hands at a NOLA-inspired ball. The results of our improv definitely sing—with all the essential Creole notes that surround the pork, chicken, sausage, and shrimp. While these balls are great solo, they also pair well with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

Both classic and inventive, these balls were one of the first meatball “specials” we served at the Shop, and they remain incredibly popular. While traditional Bologna-style meatballs call for braising in tomatoes and heavy cream, our version uses ground beef, with the tomatoes and cream added to the actual meatball. This makes for one mean spaghetti and meatballs.

Adding panache to everyday ground turkey is a bit of a challenge. Here, pistachios, orange zest, and a creamy chèvre sauce step up to the plate and bring the balls home on the first run. Serve the sausage balls with the sauce for dipping as hors d’oeuvres with cocktails. Or, cook up spaghettini, set the sausage balls on top, and nap with the sauce. The chèvre sauce can also be used to blanket sautéed chicken breasts, or to drizzle, cooled, over fresh pear slices for dessert, accompanied with a crisp, not-too-dry Gewürztraminer or Riesling.

White gazpacho is a soup from the time long before there were tomatoes in Spain for making chilled red gazpacho, a familiar and beloved paean to summer. But there were almonds, garlic, chickens, and bread. White gazpacho is essentially a mild chicken soup made forceful, filling, and hearty with a garlic-almond mayonnaise and bread soaked in the broth. To make it more sumptuous, I add chicken and almond meatballs, echoing those same ancient ingredients. It is ultrarich. A bowlful with a side dish of sturdy-leaf salad garnished with orange slices suffices for a meal. A tip: The recipe calls for a total of 3/4 cup slivered blanched almonds, divided into 1/4 cup portions for three different steps. To facilitate the division, toast the whole amount of almonds in a microwave or toaster oven until the nuts begin to brown and have a toasty smell, 5 to 6 minutes, depending on how fresh they are. Set aside 1/4 cup of the toasted slivers for garnishing the soup. Pulverize the remaining 1/2 cup in a food processor until reduced to a paste. Divide the paste into two parts, one for the sausage, one for the soup.

Although I’ve never been to Singapore, preparing this dish leads me there in fantasy. Heady with the fragrance and the flavors of India and Malaysia—cumin, fennel seeds, curry powder—and punctuated with coconut milk and almond, it parlays into a perfect balance of hot, sweet, salty, and sour. The touch of fresh lime juice for the sour element points toward the Southeast Asian contribution in a crossroads cuisine that translates smoothly to American kitchens.

This lamb, green bean, and tomato soup-stew, known as fasoulia in the home of my childhood, was the by-product of a regular event: my father dissecting a leg of lamb into its parts, from the most highly treasured, neatly cubed pieces for shish kebab to the fattier but still tender parts for grinding into sausage. A sidebar of the ritual was putting the bone and all the gristly bits into a pot, covering them with water, and gently simmering them into a broth for fasoulia. Even though the dish was a by-product of making shish kebab, it enjoyed a humble stature on our dinner table. These days when I desire a taste of lamb home cooking and am not deconstructing a leg of lamb, I use a bit of purchased ground lamb for meatballs. The green beans are key here, and though I usually turn up my nose at frozen vegetables, I make an exception for fasoulia, so that it can be enjoyed throughout the year. I find this soup-stew doesn’t need anything in the way of a side dish. A slice of bread, a spoon, and family company suffice, but Armenians would include pilaf on the side.

Hmong farmers, fleeing Laos to escape persecution, began arriving in the United States in the latter half of the 1970s, with the majority arriving in the 1980s. Most of them eventually settled where they could continue their agrarian life: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Ohio, North Carolina, and California, especially in the fertile land around Fresno, California. This occurrence is especially remarkable to me because it is where my Armenian relatives also settled three generations ago to farm in one of most bountiful growing places in the world. And I benefit still from that abundance. Notwithstanding the lengthy trip to the Bay Area, Hmong-grown vegetables from Fresno appear in glorious array at my local Oakland farmers’ market every Saturday, alongside the Armenian stand from the same area with its effusive display of fruits, heirloom tomatoes, eggplants, and Armenian cucumbers. Among the Hmong staples for sale are sturdy Asian brassicas, such as Chinese cabbage, Chinese mustard greens, and choys of several kinds; luffa (ridged gourd) and Chinese bitter melon; okra and small pickling cucumbers for my holiday pickle jars; and long beans for my Asian-to-new-Californian dishes. Together these two vendors supplement each other and pay tribute to the marriage of Asian and Mediterranean culinary ingredients in California’s hot and prolific Central Valley. It’s enough to incite a food frenzy and cook up something healthful and delicious, such as this hearty yet delicate Hmong-style main-dish soup.

By curious circumstance, I found myself in Vienna in 1968, shortly after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia and just over a decade after the Soviet invasion of Hungary. I was there for the International Philosophical Congress, which didn’t hold my interest long. There was much more to see and experience outside the confines of academia. Aside from the eternal beauty of Vienna as a center for music, the fine arts, and fine pastries, the streets were filled with people—Czechs as well as Hungarians—who had taken refuge in the welcoming city following the invasion of their countries. The energizing buzz over the politics of the time was everywhere, expressed in Czech, Russian, Hungarian Magyar (a language unrelated to nearly all other European languages and incomprehensible to ears unfamiliar with it), and in other tongues as well. But, as always, the food served as a binding, cohesive force. The city’s dining establishments, casual bistros and more formal restaurants alike, were filled with east Europeans, Viennese locals, and tourists like me, all looking for something good to eat. In addition to the impossible-to-resist Viennese fare, there were many Hungarian dishes which had become a familiar part of Viennese cooking. That is when and where I discovered the essential tastes and food combinations of east European cuisine, and, more important, that no matter what, food of the homeland is never left behind.