things to ward off winter depression: Episode 1, Meatballs

I already love cooking and eating but Jim Harrison makes me want to do it more. In his non-fiction, "The Raw and the Cooked" he supplies us with one recipe at the end of the book. I haven't made it yet, but I bet my cats life on it that it's good.

"certain Gucci-Pucci-Armani Italians have told me that they have never eaten spaghetti and meatballs. Tuscans look down on the Calabrese and the Neopolitans in the same way New Yorkers regards poor white southerners. These Cerruti aristocrats tell me that the dish is an American perversion of Italian cuisine, to which I always reply, "I don't give a shit." Their tiny, pointy shoes cause them life long discomfort and you can't eat a largish meatball with pursed, dry lips. I should also mention that I make a bollito misto, and that I have often shaved Italian white truffles onto my morning oatmeal. But then let's not be nasty. It's better to meditate on the dark freight of power and grace that spaghetti and meatballs can offer your life.


Pour a liberal amount of good olive oil in the bottom of the baking pan. Halve a dozen or so tomatoes and place them in the pan. Sprinkle them liberally with chopped garlic, fresh basil, and thyme. Cook for about an hour at 325 F. Chop this roughly and you have your sauce.


1 pound ground chuck or veal
2 beaten eggs
5 cloves garlic
1/4 cup parsley
3 or 4 anchovy fillets, preferably salt-packed
Ample extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup to 1 cup freshly made bread crumbs

Saute the garlic, finely chopped, in olive oil until translucent. Add the anchovies and let melt, then add the parsely and wilt; let cool. Mix the meat with the eggs. Add the cooked garlic, anchovies, parsley, salt and pepper, and bread crumbs. Form your meatballs, but not too large or they will crack. Brown in olive oil, then cook slowly. Mix in your roasted tomato sauce."

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