CLASSICO!!

spaghetti and meatballs?!
c'mon.
there are a whole lotta folks out there who swear, up, down,
sideways, and back again that that's the ultimate molto hottnissimo.
y'know?
i mean it.
back home, in tiny american state of connecticut,
where an overwhelming neo-italian influence permeates the area in a rosily
marinara-tinted glow of anglicized dialects and specialty cheese stores,
a good meat-a-ball might be the difference between your parents' approval
of a potential spouse, or the tragic star-crossed calamity of an unacceptable union.
that might be a tiny exaggeration, but it's not too far off from the truth.
if your sauce game is weak?
you're Off The List.
and that's especially true if you only eff around and use jar sauce.
(it's practically the unspoken 8th sin, i think)
where i'm from, that's for the untouchable filthy rabble we do NOT associate with.
ha!
...and then there's the meatballs.
first of all, the idea of a ball of meat is F*ing horrifying.
that's no joke.
mushing together different animals body parts,
with bird butt baby-seeds,
and crumbled old bread?
What. The. F*?!
that's gross, when deconstucted, isn't it?
ugh.
however,
since the debate over who makes best ones has gone on forever,
naturally, there's elitism and discrimination as to the blend of charnel horrors you employ.
and then, to further explore the minutiae,
you've got to ask whether to cheese or NOT to cheese?
apparently,
it's a dilemma.
well,
not for me, or you, obvi-
because we're not a kaleidoscopic pulped-carcass-frankensteining A*-holes.
a menagerie of unrecognizable corpses isn't something i'm likely to ever employ.
and the eggs and the cheese aren't invited either.
that's the awesomest part of MY spaghetti and 'balls, y'all.
nobody gets hurt.
....
and yet, maybe that's not entirely true-
feelings do get a little hurt when you can't tell if you're doing it right or not.
awww.
yeah, neighbors,
i'm still over here perfecting the ultimate m(wh)eatballs,
and simmering a slightly chunky super-official marinara, from scratch;
because rules is rules,
and my DNA compels me to obsess over the intricacies of this defining dish.
so i do.
the thing of it is, i do it reallllly well.
mmmhmmm.
i'm not trying to take it easy, just because i don't want to eat dead bodies, bro.
take a look at what i'm talking about, because i think i might be onto something.
teleport:

THAT'S A-SPICY!!
dudes!!
come ON.
(it's vermicelli, not spaghetti, but i think that only improved the experience,
as marginally thinner strands of durum semolina really just means
MORE strands of slippery semolina serpents on the plate.
yummmmmmm.
al dente dopeness is what we need.
and that sauce?
*ahem* i mean, that SAUUUUCE!!!
yeah!
i don't know how you get down with homemade magic,
but i just use what i've got, to get where i want to go.
-
*
N.T.S.W.T.S. (never the same way twice sauce)
-
in a medium pot, with a tablespoon of olive oil, soften:
1/2 sweet onion, diced;
1 cup sliced baby tomatoes;
3 cloves garlic;
1 medium carrot, finely minced.
add 1 tsp ea. Garlic Powder, Onion Powder;
then, toss in phase one of your spices:oregano, parsley, basil, sage, thyme, rosemary.
toast those to unlock the aromatics,
then deglaze the pan with:
2 T red wine vinegar.
add 2 cups crushed tomatoes;
2 T tomato paste;
1/2 cup broth;
1/4 cup apple cider;
one handful of nootch,
salt, black pepper, and crushed red pepper flakes.
simmer for 20 minutes,
then reassess your spices.
add more if you need 'em, or get psyched that it's already awesome. whatever.
I LOVE A GOOD SAUCE.
that's real.
-
sourdough garlic bread?!
hell yes.
lightly buttered slices of whole grain naturally fermented super-hottness,
with GPOP, and nootch, a little salt, and fried garlic sprankles,
toasted on one side, at 400℉, until they're just beginning to brown...
damn, that's that super-sexxxy sh!t, son.
i'm serious. it seems simple, but it adds so much.
why?
because good bread makes better people, and that's the truth.
***********
but, let's discuss these balls. bro.
tempeh, seitan, tomatoes, spices, broth, and love.
if you aren't about it, you'd better learn about it,
or you'r going to get held back, and left behind.
there's no room for non-eff-with'rs when it comes to something this good.
here's your move:
-
*
M(WH)EATBALLLLLLLLS!!!
-
in a medium sauce pot,
saute, in 2 T olive oil:
1/2 large yellow onion, minced;
2 cloves garlic;
add 8 oz. crumbled tempeh (i used one with flax seeds in it);
and 1 can petite diced tomatoes, with juice.
simmer that up for five minutes, and then toss in:
GPOP, nootch, oregano, thyme, sage, parsley, rosemary;
give 'em a pinch of cayenne, and a healthy shake of crushed red pepper,
plus 33 coarse cracks of black pepper, and a dash of salt.
now,
add 1 cup of veggie broth, and let it all cook down to a mash,
uncovered, for as long as that takes,
whilst stirring occasionally, over medium/medium-low heat.
-
guys, that's NOT all there is to it, either.
nope.
i like the process, because it's an involved one,
and too much is my favorite amount.
in a medium bowl, sift together:
1 cup wheat gluten;
3 T garbanzo bean (chickpea) flour;
3 T tapioca flour;
2 T nootch.
-
add the slightly-cooled mash to the flour, and smoosh it all together.
let that mixture set up for five minutes,
then hand-form a set of fattie-boombattie balls, buddy.
i made ten big un's, and another 'nother dozen smaller ones.
y'can't make just a couple.
no way.
set 'em up in an oiled shallow cake pan, and cover each with a dollop of crushed tomatoes.
foil 'em over,.
and bake 'em for thirty-forty minutes, in that 400℉ garlic-bread-toastin'-A* oven,
uncovering the whole batch after the first 20...
kaBOOM!!
'SPLODE!!
WOW!!!
all of a sudden, you're living in a passionately compassionate modern-age of
conscientious, capable, culinary creation.
these blops are the BEST.
and i'm still in the over-the-top italian-american snob club, for life!!
my point being: someday i'm gonna make a lovely wife for somebody.
HEY!
did you just impose your traditional gender roles on my meatballs?
umm, take it easy.
*
it's cold in wintertime.
currently, it's unseasonably arctic,
and there's a LOT of wind.
that's essentially the worst combo.
oh,
and the foot of snow on the ground isn't making crabtree or i ANY happier
about our obligatory but unwelcome wintry trek through the woodsly not-so-goodness.
nope.
not one little teeny tiny little bit.
however,
you get what you get, when you live where i live,
so it's all still really happening,
it's just not so great.
nature wins,
but she doesn't have to be such a b!tch about it;
never quiet, never soft.....