Oven Baked Meatballs

They don't look special, but they sure taste special

Recently, I was given some farm-raised grass-fed ground beef. It came with a warning: "This is much leaner than commercial ground beef, so cook accordingly." The beef looked like buffalo meat--dark red with almost no white or light areas. I decided that hamburgers would not be a good choice, since they were not likely to be juicy. So I settled on meatballs, where I could add some moisture.

I made them much like I make meatloaf:

• 1 lb. beef
• 1/4 cup Italian flavored breadcrumbs
• 3 Tbsp. tomato juice (from canned tomatoes)
• 1 egg
• half onion, chopped fine
• 2–3 Tbsp chopped parsley

I beat the egg, added the tomato juice, and soaked the crumbs in this mixture. Then I mixed everything together and made a dozen meatballs; each was about 2 inches across. I put the meatballs on a rack on top of a baking sheet and baked at 400 for 20 minutes.

While they were cooking, I heated up some oven roasted tomato sauce, which tends to be quite thick, and added a medium-sized can of diced tomatoes. I added a few cloves of chopped garlic and let this simmer while the meatballs cooked. Then I added the cooked meatballs and let everything sit on a low burner for half an hour or so.

The results were wonderful. The meatballs had a slight crust from the oven roasting; their insides tasted like the beef I grew up with: rich and very flavorful. Over the next few days, they flavored the sauce, so I could have made everything a day or two ahead. But I couldn't wait. I served them on pasta, in sandwiches, and finally chopped up on pizza.

As a kid, I loved steak, but my taste for it declined over the years. I thought that was the result of changing tastebuds. Now I'm convinced it is the result of changing beef. I have two grass-fed beef steaks in my freezer. I can hardly wait.

Scrumptious Sandwiches

A good sandwich is a thing of beauty; a bad one is a waste of calories. I'm not a huge fan of sandwiches in general. Often, they are too bready, too chewy, too meaty, or too bland. A few, however, really delight me. These usually provide a variety of rich flavors.

One, shown here, is not only a favorite of mine, but also a regular lunch or light dinner. It has lots of ingredients, but most are usually in my refrigerator.  This sandwich starts with a whole wheat wrap that is brushed with mayonnaise and mashed avocado. Then I add one slice of crisp bacon, some sliced turkey, lettuce, tomato and fixings. The sandwich pictured has a bit of blue cheese sprinkled on it, as well as chopped olives and scallions. The combination of the bland turkey and wrap with the crunchy lettuce, juicy tomato, and tangy fixings is truly satisfying.


 I have found several different ways to keep sandwiches interesting. One is to have numerous fixings on hand that don't spoil quickly. My favorites include crumbled blue cheese, anchovies, kalamata olives, feta, hummus, various mustards, and horseradish. In addition, I usually have some bacon (separated into strips on wax paper and then rolled up raw and frozen inside a plastic bag), and lately I have also kept an assortment of grilled veggies, including peppers and onions. 

By combining various textures, tastes, and colors, I can make a good sandwich in a few minutes. Furthermore, it's usually far tastier than one I could buy elsewhere—cheaper, too.

Too Many Tomatoes? No such thing!

Nothing beats a fresh tomato, eaten immediately after picking. However, some times you wind up with a batch of tomatoes, rather than one or two perfect specimens. When tomatoes ripen, they often do so all at once, giving cooks an opportunity to cook in quantity and then save for later.

When I was younger, I used to can tomatoes. It was a bit of a pain, I admit, but they sure looked great in their sparkling jars. Then I froze them, back when I had a giant freezer in the basement. Now I roast them and then freeze them in bags. The roasting concentrates both the flavor and the bulk, and it makes a delicious sauce.

Take a large roasting pan and brush it with olive oil. Cut the tomatoes in half and arrange them cut side up in the pan. You can crowd them in, but don't pile them up. One layer only, please. Sprinkle with a little salt and some chopped garlic, if you like. You can also throw in some basil or oregano. Drizzle with a bit more olive oil. Roast in a 400 oven for about an hour, depending on the size of the tomatoes. Check on them after 45 minutes, but it could take up to 90, depending on size. You want them to brown but not completely dry out.

Now put them through a food mill, if you have one and don't like skins. Or, throw them into a blender, skin and all (or use a stick blender). The resulting sauce can be frozen in plastic bags in serving sizes that fit your family. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Then use as is in recipes.

Slurp Your Veggies!

the beginnings of gazpacho

By now you have probably figured out that I eat lots of vegetables not because they are good for me but because I really like them. Consequently, I go a little nuts in summer when local veggies pop up everywhere: supermarkets, farm stands, farmer's markets, friends' backyards.

My refrigerator is a bit of an embarrassment in summer, because it's chockablock full of washed vegetables, wrapped in dishtowels and placed inside plastic bags. Open the fridge and you are confronted by many anonymous white parcels. The whole thing looks a bit like the stoarge facility of some demented forensic pathologist.

Luckily, most of the mysterious packages can quickly be reduced to one large bowl of gazpacho.  Gazpacho is one of the three cold soups that I eat regularly in summer. The first time I made it, I followed the recipe in my 1963 McCalls cookbook. It was easy to make and delicious. Nowadays, I am more likely to make the Boston Globe recipe, which includes both corn and avocados. I can eat that for almost any meal, including breakfast, because it's not quite as tangy as many other gazpachos. It has an incredibly fresh taste and is almost addictive.

The other two soups that I eat in summer are Bulgarian cucumber soup and borscht. If a heat wave is forecast, I will usually have one of these chilling in the fridge. The cucumber soup is from an old Joy of Cooking. I serve borscht the way my parents did, with a hot boiled potato in the middle and a dollop of sour cream on top. I love yogurt, but it just isn't the same! (Summer borscht I buy in bottles; winter borscht—which often contains cabbage and beef—I make myself.)

Winter Tomatoes

Usually, I don't even bother to buy tomatoes in winter. They are hard, tasteless, and somewhat depressing because I always remember the taste of summer tomatoes. A few days ago, though, I abruptly changed my usual practice. I was visiting BJs, a store that I usually associate with toilet paper and kitty litter. However, this time, I was wandering through their food aisles.

During this visit, I saw a plastic package of small tomatoes. They were so pretty that I just bought them. I didn't care what they tasted like; I was attracted to their appearance. As it turned out, they tasted almost like real tomatoes: juicy, sweet, and just slightly tart. I may rethink my entire approach to winter tomatoes.