February 2017: Turkey Ricotta Meatballs
When I was twenty, I read the Marjane Satrapti memoir Persepolis. I remember finishing the first volume when I was on a bus to Boston, curled up against the window as we snaked through the city. In the final pages, there is a scene at the airport as Marjane says goodbye to her parents. Without giving much away, there is one panel with young Marjane waving to her happy parents, and then there is what she sees when she turns around.
What I've always remembered the most about Persepolis though was being surprised by their lives before crisis, before war. There were the upper middle class apartments, the long talks between giddy teenage girls. The nice clothes, the dinner parties. The normalcy. Part of this surprise came from the narrative I'd long been fed - that people from outside our country were different; that any country with a dictator would be sad and hurting, poor and colorless.
There have been moments in the last several weeks, normal moments, where I wonder if this is that portrait of life before war. The nights that I've cut vegetables at my kitchen counter while listening to NPR report on the corrupt administration. Meeting a friend for dinner at a chic restaurant when our hearts are heavy with the news, the rapidly mounting injustices. So this is what it's like, I've thought. So much can look the same when democracy is crumbling.
I've also been thinking of instant gratification, the kind that comes with privilege and technology. This resistance will be the opposite of instant gratification, which is a kind of strength and hope I'm adjusting to. When the civil rights movement was taught to me, it was one chapter in a history book, one example of boycotts, one speech, one march. I've been re-reading the March graphic novel trilogy by John Lewis (three cheers for comics as inspiration at this time in our country) if only to remind myself that it's a long fight ahead. That it's something for me to prepare for, not with dread, but with determination.
So what do you cook while listening to the news, with heavy hearts and voices raised, hands cold after holding a sign in the winter weather with hundreds and thousands of others?
Turkey ricotta meatballs. Enough to feed a good dozen or more of your loved ones.
This recipe comes from my new favorite cookbook, Small Victories by Julia Turshen. She's a chef and wife of the lovely Grace Bonnie of Design*Sponge. They're also two gems of love and service and activism. I first made these meatballs when visiting my mother a few weeks back. It was an afternoon when my brother visited with his children. I pulled a chair up to the counter so Isaac, my 2 year old nephew, could help. He tore up the basil, mashed the turkey and ricotta together, and poured in teaspoons and cups of ingredients I measured. This simple recipe is magically gluten free, full of beautiful flavor, and makes, for lack of a better description, a shit ton of meatballs. There were enough for dinner for all us, plus a large Tupperware for my brother to take home and for my mother to freeze. It made me so happy to have cooked something delicious that could nourish my whole family.
There's a lot of work ahead of us. A good dinner is what I'm gonna use to channel the love to keep us all going.
Recipe: Turkey and Ricotta Meatballs
from Small Victories by Julia Turshen (Chronicle Books) Serves 8, or 4 with lots of leftovers (makes about 30 meatballs) You’ll need: 2 28-oz cans whole peeled tomatoes [I did one crushed can and one diced can and it was fine - just make sure it simmers long enough to thicken up] 7 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil 7 garlic cloves; 4 thinly sliced, 3 minced Kosher salt 1 cup fresh basil leaves, finely chopped 1 cup fresh Italian parsley leaves, finely chopped [The first time I did this I used 1/2 c. dried parsley instead, and the fresh parsley really does make a difference!] 1 1/2 cups fresh whole-milk ricotta cheese 1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese 2 lb ground turkey (preferably dark meat), at room temperature [I've now made these with all breast meat and a mix of thigh meat and breast meat. The darker meat totally adds a depth of flavor, but it won't make or break the dish. Also. Julia recommends room temp because cooking cold meat takes longer for it to cook (duh, why hadn't I ever thought of this), but again, it won't make or break the recipe, I found.] Pour the contents of the tomato cans into a large bowl (set the cans aside) and crush the tomatoes with your hands (this is a messy but fun job, and a very good one for children). [No need to crush if you're using crushed and diced, FYI!] Rinse one of the cans with about 1/4 cup water, pour it into the second can and swish it around to get all the excess tomato out of the cans and then pour the water into the tomato bowl. In a large saucepan or pot over medium-high heat, warm 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, add the sliced garlic, and cook, stirring, until it begins to sizzle, about 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and a very large pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and let the sauce simmer, stirring every so often, until it is slightly reduced and has lost any tin-can taste, about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 425F. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Drizzle 2 tablespoons of olive oil on the baking sheet and use your hands to rub it over the entire surface of the sheet. Set aside. [Okay, the first time I made these, there was so much grease pooled on the baking sheet after baking them that I could barely remove it from the oven! So the second time I made them I baked them in a glass baking dish - they didn't brown as much, but they also didn't create as much liquid, so I'm perplexed. TL;DR: feel free to bake in a glass dish to avoid greasy messes.]
In a large bowl, combine the minced garlic, basil, parsley, ricotta, Parmesan, turkey and 1 tablespoon of salt. Blend everything together gently but authoritatively with your hands (they’re the best tool for the job) until well mixed. Then, use your hands to form the mixture into golf ball–sized meatballs; the mixture will be sticky, so wet your hands with a bit of water to help prevent the meat from sticking to them. [I made mine a little smaller than golfballs, just to make sure they'd all cook through. This made anywhere between 44 and 48 meatballs.] Transfer the meatballs to the prepared baking sheet as you form them (it’s okay if they are touching a little). Drizzle the meatballs with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil and roast until they’re browned and firm to the touch, about 25 minutes. Use tongs or a slotted spoon to transfer the meatballs to the simmering sauce (discard whatever juice and fat is left on the baking sheet). Cook the meatballs for 10 minutes in the sauce (they can be left in the gently simmering sauce for up to 1 hour) and serve over prepared pasta.
xo,
c
PS:
* My inbox and social media feeds have been (blessedly) jammed with activism opportunities. Since I've easily gotten overwhelmed, I've committed to actions with the Injustice Boycott and Showing Up for Racial Justice. The Injustice Boycott is ramping up actions against the Dakota Access Pipeline, and I recommend taking a look at the simple things you can do. For Showing Up for Racial Justice, I can't say enough good things about how well organized and effective these meetings are. The focus is on white people organizing other white people against racism, which I believe will be part of the sustainable change we need to make to influence the country. If anyone in NYC every wants to go to one of their chapter meetings with me, lemme know!
* Someone on Twitter compiled a list of what we have accomplished through activism the last few weeks. It's always good to take a moment to recognize when change is accomplished!
* Remember the flourless chocolate cake fiasco of last month? My friend Alison Mazer, an amazing baker and chef, offers the simplest of solutions: bake it in a springform pan! This will release the pan from the sides with ease instead of having to wrestle and bang and pray that it pops out in one piece. Thanks, Alison!!
* Me watching the news rn