From the June, 2005 Gourmet

Several weeks ago I purchased a bottle of dry Marsala wine in order to make this recipe for sautéed mushrooms. The resulting dish was a wonderful early autumn treat, but I have to confess that the real source of excitement for me was cooking with the wine I’d bought for the occasion—an ingredient I’d never worked with before. That may sound like an odd confession, especially when I tell you that at least a few times a month I order chicken Marsala from our local Italian restaurant (a delivery staple for those nights when I don’t have the time/desire/energy to cook). I’m a big fan of this classic Italian-American chicken dish, largely because of the way the wine coats the meat with a rich tangy sauce, but also because of the seductive caramel color it delivers—so much so that if I see it on a menu it tends to eliminate the possibility of ordering anything else. How could it be that the dish’s signature ingredient—and one that’s so readily available—is one I’d never cooked with before? It’s a question I’m still pondering. Still, having finally cracked open the proverbial bottle, I realized there was now nothing to stop me from attempting my own, homemade version of this favorite dish.

And so almost as soon as I’d washed the utensils associated with my earlier mushroom cooking exercise, I went in search of a chicken Marsala recipe, which would deliver all the things I love best about the preparation—namely tender chicken, flavor-packed mushrooms, and, of course, that dark, zesty sauce. As it turns out, I wouldn’t have to look far, since my own rather large (and largely untested) collection of recipe clippings included one from the June, 2005 issue of Gourmet for the very dish I was after. Given the recipe’s provenance—as I’ve said here before, there are few resources in which I have more faith than the Ruth Reichl era of Gourmet—I had little doubt that this version would hit all of the desired high notes.

That said, there was one ingredient in the recipe that didn’t seem to align with my vision for the ultimate chicken Marsala: cream—2/3 of a cup, to be exact, which is added to the sauce in the final minutes of preparation. Still, such has been my satisfaction with most anything I’ve prepared from the magazine that I figured it was worth a try. And so I got down to work, sautéing a few tablespoons of finely chopped shallots in three tablespoons of butter (most chicken Marsala recipes call for onion; I like the sweeter flavor of the shallot here), then adding the mushrooms, the sage, and a little salt and pepper. After eight minutes or so, or once all the liquid had dissipated and the mushrooms had begun to brown, I removed the pan from the heat and set it aside—taking a few moments, of course, to savor the swoon-worthy scent overtaking the kitchen, as there are few things more enticing than the smell of onions cooked in butter.

Next I prepared the chicken, pounding the four boneless, skinless chicken breasts between sheets of plastic wrap until each was about ¼” thick (despite my impulse to do this by placing all four breasts between two very large sheets of plastic, I learned the hard way that it’s better to pound each breast individually, between its own two sheets of plastic—not as “green” perhaps, but definitely more efficient). Just be sure to proceed gently as you don’t want the chicken to tear—a development that can make the next steps (patting the chicken dry, seasoning it with salt and pepper, dredging each cutlet in a cup of flour) a more delicate, and therefore time-consuming, process than it needs to be.

Once the chicken had been prepped it was time to move on to the actual cooking—a simple enough process that required nothing more than frying the cutlets (two at a time) in a tablespoon each of olive oil and butter for a total of four minutes, then transferring the chicken to a heat-proof platter and a 200˚ oven to keep warm. All that remained now was the making of the sauce, though as any true chicken Marsala appreciator can tell you, it’s the sauce that’s the most important component. Here it’s produced by bringing a ½ cup of Marsala wine to a boil, stirring it for about 30 seconds, then adding ¾ cup of previously reduced chicken broth (start with 1¾ cup and boil this down to ¾ cup, a process shat should take about 15 to 20 minutes, though you’ll want to check often), the heavy cream, and the mushrooms, and simmer for between 6 and 8 minutes, until the sauce is thickened. Alternately, if you’re not a fan of the cream here (I liked it but can also imagine wanting a cream-free variety on occasion), simply omit this ingredient and in the final minutes—after adding a teaspoon of lemon juice, 2 more tablespoons of wine, and a ½ teaspoon of sage—remove the pan from the heat and stir in two tablespoons of butter, just to ensure a silky consistency to the sauce. Pour this intoxicating mixture over the cutlets, and serve.

The traditional way to enjoy this dish is alongside a mound of spaghetti, and while I’ll be the first to acknowledge the undeniable appeal of this combination, if you’re trying to limit your starch intake (as I am) a healthier and equally appealing accompaniment is sautéed spinach or broccoli rabe. Either way, there’s something about the rich, silken sauce paired with the chicken here that makes this one of those rare, standout combinations: a decadent dish that’s still relatively healthy, not to mention easy enough to prepare for a weeknight dinner. What’s more, the dish has a kind of celebratory, special-occasion quality, and who doesn’t need a little of that in the middle of the week?

On a separate note, I wanted to mention that, unfortunately, I will again have to take a hiatus next week from my weekly posting schedule—this time because we’re moving and as much as I’d prefer to be brining pickles or making a rabbit stew or some such, I’ll be packing boxes (yay). I’ll try to bring you something tantalizing the week of October 28th to make up for my absence. In the meantime, be well everyone!

Ingredients:
—1¾ cups reduced-sodium chicken broth, divided
—2 tbs finely chopped shallot
—5 tbs unsalted butter, divided
—10 oz mushrooms, trimmed and thinly sliced (TRG note: I recommend good old white button mushrooms here)
—1½ tsp finely chopped fresh sage, divided
—1/4 tsp salt
—1/8 tsp black pepper
—1 cup all-purpose flour
—4 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves (about 2 lbs total)
—2 tbs extra-virgin olive oil
—1/2 cup plus 2 tbs dry Marsala wine, divided
—2/3 cup heavy cream (TRG note: Treat this as optional; if you prefer a less creamy sauce, omit, or substitute with a few tablespoons unsalted butter)
—1 tsp fresh lemon juice

Directions:
—Put rack in middle position and preheat oven to 200˚.
—Bring broth to a boil in a 2-qt. saucepan over high heat, then boil, uncovered, until reduced to about ¾ cup, about 20 minutes (TRG note: I found this takes much less time, so start checking at around 10 minutes). Set aside.
—Cook shallot in 3 tbs of the butter in an 8- to 10-inch heavy skillet over moderate heat, stirring, until shallot begins to turn golden, about 1 minute.
—Add mushrooms, 1 tsp of the sage, salt, and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid mushrooms give off is evaporated and mushrooms begin to brown, 6 to 8 minutes. Remove from heat.
—Put flour in a wide, shallow bowl. Gently pound chicken to ¼-inch thick between 2 sheets of plastic wrap using the flat side of a meat pounder or a rolling pin.
—Pat chicken dry and season with salt and pepper, then dredge in flour, 1 piece at a time, shaking off excess. Transfer chicken to sheets of wax paper, arranging chicken in 1 layer.
—Heat 1 tbs each of oil and butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until foam subsides, then sauté half of chicken, turning once, until golden and just cooked through, about 4 minutes total. Transfer cooked chicken to a large, heatproof platter, arranging in 1 layer, then place platter in oven to keep warm. Wipe out skillet with paper towels and cook remaining chicken in same manner, then transfer to oven, arranging in 1 layer.
—Add ½ cup of the wine to skillet and boil over high heat, stirring and scraping up brown bits, about 30 seconds. Add reduced broth, cream, and mushrooms, then simmer, stirring occasionally, until sauce is slightly thickened, 6 to 8 minutes. Add lemon juice and remaining 2 tbs wine and ½ tsp sage. (TRG note: If you prefer your sauce to be less creamy, simply omit the cream, if you like adding two tablespoons of butter off heat, after the lemon juice, wine, and sage have been incorporated.)
—Serve chicken with the sauce.

Serves 4 (or two who eat like Alfredo and me)

The post 10/18/13 • CHICKEN MARSALA appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the March, 2013 Bon Appétit

Last month I attended a friend’s birthday dinner, and seated to both my left and my right were vegetarians. Ten years ago I could count on one hand the number of people I knew who had eliminated meat from their diet, and now I was surrounded by them! Of course, the same scenario could just as easily have occurred in the ’90s. But the chances of its happening today are far greater—for the simple reason that being vegetarian has caught on. And caught on to the point where it’s no longer exotic or even notable. As someone who likes to feed people, this change is something I’ve been increasingly aware of, since more and more friends sitting down at our table are vegetarian. Though I may eat less meat than I used to (especially red meat, which seems to slow me down), I’m still most definitely a carnivore, so coming up with a meat-free menu that I’m excited to cook and eat is a frequent challenge these days.

I say “challenge” because eliminate meat from a meal and I tend to fear it will have no flavor, and (even worse) that I’ll end up leaving the table hungry. To my limited way of thinking, no meat equals no fun, and even though I know that’s just plain wrong, this tends to be my automatic response where vegetarian cooking is concerned. Which is one reason I was so glad to come across this vegetable stew recipe (an Italian vegetable stew, to be precise—so called for the presence of ingredients such as crushed whole tomatoes, red pepper flakes, olive oil, and Parmesan cheese), and why I was even gladder to have made it. Finally, a dish to rid me of my vegetarian bias! And even better, a vegetarian-friendly option I could get excited about cooking for people who also eat meat! In other words, we’re talking life-changing stuff here.

The recipe comes from Brandon Jew of San Francisco’s Bar Agricole (by way of the March, 2013 issue of Bon Appétit), and has a number of things going for it that got my attention. For one thing it just looks amazing—packed as it is with an array of colorful vegetables (kale, collards, carrots, to name a few) that can’t help but draw the eye of even the most committed carnivore. What’s more, the featured ingredients include a large quantity of cannellini beans, along with six cups of dried sourdough bread chunks, so the possibility of ending the meal still hungry is exactly zero. Add to this a handful of Parmesan cheese shavings and a drizzle of olive oil—both introduced just before serving—and you have the sort of flavor combination that’s hard to beat.

Like most stews this one benefits from being made a day or so in advance, though if your schedule won’t allow for that, it’s still plenty good if eaten as soon as assembled (a process that takes little more than a few hours, including the time needed to dry out the bread). In fact, much of the preparation is fairly passive, with the last 50 minutes allocated to simmering the various ingredients (minus the bread and cheese, of course). The exception to this is the preparation of the vegetables—which in the case of the collards and the kale require de-stemming and par-boiling prior to chopping, both of which are fairly speedy. But once everything has been peeled and cut down to its appropriate size, all that remains is some pouring and stirring.

Included in this pouring and stirring is a large can of whole tomatoes, which once added to the pot are crushed by hand—an addition that brings some important acidity into the mix, not to mention a chunky textural component. I mention this because I used a can of the pre-crushed variety instead (for no other reason than it happened to be sitting in the cupboard), and while the flavors didn’t suffer from the swap, I did find myself wishing for larger, less uniform chunks of tomato. So stick with the instructions and go with whole tomatoes if you can.

Also, since the Parmesan shavings and drizzle of olive oil are literally the crowning glory on top of this stew, be sure to use the best quality of both you can get your hands on; it will literally make all the difference in the final tasting. I happened to have excellent examples of both on hand (in fact, a Sicilian friend had just given us a really first-rate bottle of olive oil, which was perfect for the finishing touch here), though even without these enhancements this is one of those dishes I’d probably keep thinking about anyway. As it is, I’m just waiting for the right moment to make this stew again—a definite first for me where anything “vegetarian” is concerned.

And one final thought: If you plan to eat the stew over a series of days, consider mixing just a portion of the prepared bread chunks into the amount of stew you think likely to be eaten. (Don’t do this, and those otherwise appealing leftovers will feature clumps of sodden bread.) Or skip this issue entirely and, instead of mixing in the torn bread, top the stew with homemade crostini (see last week’s posting for an easy recipe).

Ingredients:
—1/2 1-lb. loaf sourdough bread, torn into 2” pieces (about 6 cups).
—1 bunch collard greens, center ribs and stems removed
—1 bunch Tuscan or other kale, center ribs and stems removed
—Kosher salt
—1/2 cup olive oil, divided, plus more for serving
—2 medium carrots, peeled, finely chopped
—2 celery stalks, finely chopped
—1 leek, white and pale-green parts only, chopped
—4 garlic cloves, chopped
—1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
—1 28-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes, drained
—8 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
—3 15-oz. cans cannellini (white kidney) beans, rinsed
—4 sprigs thyme
—1 sprig marjoram or oregano
—1 bay leaf
—Freshly ground black pepper
—Shaved Parmesan (for serving)

Directions:
—Scatter bread on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer. Let stand at room temperature to slightly dry out, about 2 hours.
—Working in batches, cook collards and kale separately in a large pot of boiling salted water until slightly softened, about 3 minutes per batch. Rinse to cool. Squeeze out excess water; roughly chop. Set aside.
—Heat ¼ cup oil in a large heavy pot over medium heat. Add carrots, celery, and leek; stir until softened, 8 to 10 minutes.
—Add garlic and red pepper flakes. Cook, stirring until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add tomatoes, crushing with your hands as you add them. Cook, stirring frequently, until liquid is evaporated and tomatoes begin to stick to the bottom of the pot, 10 to 15 minutes.
—Add broth, beans, thyme, marjoram, bay leaf, and reserved greens; season with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer until flavors meld and soup thickens slightly, 40 to 50 minutes.
—Just before serving, gently stir bread and ¼ cup oil into soup. Divide among bowls, top with Parmesan, and drizzle with oil.

NOTE: Soup can be made 2 days ahead. Let cool slightly; chill until cold. Cover and keep chilled. Reheat before continuing. Store bread airtight at room temperature.

Makes 6 to 8 servings

The post 03/21/13 • ITALIAN VEGETABLE STEW appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from America’s Test Kitchen 

I know, I know, lasagna—not exactly consistent with the theme of last week’s posting in which I gave voice to a post-holiday impulse to lay off the sort of rich, rib-sticking foods I’m usually drawn to. What can I say? I did that for a few days, and then, well, I didn’t want to anymore. And in truth, I’m a big believer in giving your body what it’s asking for, so if it wants spinach give it spinach, and if it wants pizza, give it pizza… at least in moderation. Anyway, that approach has pretty much worked for me, with an understanding that if the pizza begins to outweigh the spinach, it may require a dialing up of the exercise routine. Still, lasagna is the sort of thing I never make and rarely order, despite the fact that it’s a dish I really, really like (I mean seriously, who doesn’t?). It’s simply one of those foods, like chocolate cake and fried chicken, that I managed to erase from my inner favorite foods hard drive, having determined that it posed too much of a challenge even for my relatively speedy metabolism. But several months ago, when my friend Dennis casually mentioned that he’d made lasagna the previous weekend, the lost (or at least hidden) memory of that seductive dish came rushing back, reigniting a craving that proved as powerful as it was insistent. I’m not exaggerating when I say that anytime the issue of what to cook arose, lasagna was at the head of the line, demanding equal consideration. And so, in the end, there was nothing to do but ignore my reservations and welcome the dish back into the kitchen.

Of course, that eventual waving in process also involved finding the right recipe, a process which took longer than expected as I discovered one more reason the dish hadn’t been featured on my table lately: most versions of it can take the better part of a day to prepare. That was more time than I was ready to commit to something I wasn’t convinced I should be making at all. Still, if I could find a recipe that somehow sped up the process to no more than a few hours without giving up the rich sauce and classic mix of ingredients I associated with all of my favorite lasagna-eating experiences (namely ricotta cheese, mozzarella, Parmesan, and sausage—this last an absolute requirement) then I was in. And after scanning my own archives and a variety of cooking magazine websites, that’s exactly what I found in the ever-reliable America’s Test Kitchen cookbook.

As I recall, “simple” was the key word in their description, and while I question whether any lasagna, no matter how speedy its assembly, can ever be called simple (let’s face it, with its multiple layers of sauce, noodles, and cheese, few dishes require more assembly than this one), two key shortcuts promised to get me to the finish line in record time. The first involved fashioning a bolognese that had all of the rich, well-rounded flavors of a long simmered sauce but in just a fraction of the time. And the second with swapping out traditional lasagna noodles with the no-boil variety (also called “oven ready”) that are now standard issue on most supermarket shelves—a step that eliminates the laborious process of boiling the noodles, then plunging them in ice water and carefully laying them out so they don’t clump, all prior to putting together the actual dish.

Of course, many recipes make promises—the question is: do they deliver? In the case of this one I’m here to tell you that it does, in large part because that meat sauce is so damn good. Traditionally the sauce’s richness comes from a slow-cooking process that takes hours to complete, but that here is achieved through a handful of steps completed in little more than 20 minutes. The key is simmering the onion, garlic and meat together for a few minutes, adding a small amount of cream for body, then incorporating both the puréed and the diced tomatoes in the final minutes. It’s a combination that ensures the finished sauce will be velvety smooth while still offering the homey satisfaction of chunks of whole tomatoes—a case of having your cake and eating it too. Just be sure to pour the juice off the diced variety before adding it to the pot or the finished product will be disappointingly wet and loose. It’s a mistake I made, and while it had no discernible effect on the flavor of the dish, a slice of lasagna should look firm and almost block-like and not, well, like a melting mound of tomato-smothered noodles.

That said, I tend to like my sauce slightly tangier than I found this one to be. If you’re similarly inclined, increase the salt from a ½ to ¾ of a teaspoon, and add a ¼ cup chopped fresh basil along with a ¼ tsp dried oregano—minor tweaks that ratchet up the flavor quotient. Of course, where anything tomato-y is concerned I lean towards the heavily seasoned, so let your own preferences guide you here. Either way, the sauce will still have plenty of full-bodied flavor.

And as for the all-important meat component, the recipe suggests using a pound of meatloaf mix (equal parts beef, pork, and veal), though it notes that a ½ pound each of beef and sweet Italian sausage will also do the trick. Given my porky preferences mentioned above, I naturally went for the sausage alternative—a move that delivered just the sort of mildly spicy flavor I was looking for. And if you buy the sausage in bulk form you can avoid the time consuming process of removing the meat from its casings.

Although the cooking time required an additional 10 minutes to achieve the bubbly, spotty brown appearance called for in ATK’s directions, the entire recipe from start to finish is still blessedly fast—clocking in at less than an hour-and-a-half, including 10 minutes for cooling. Which means that other than waistline concerns there’s absolutely no reason not to satisfy your lasagna craving on a regular basis. Of course, add the slick of melted cheese to tender noodles and a rich meat sauce and you have a combination that’s famously hard to say no to, which means it’s great dish to have on hand when you’re feeding a crowd but dangerous if it’s just one or two of you (in other words, leftovers spell danger). As Alfredo said to me last night after we’d each inhaled a second serving, “Definitely make this again… just not too often.”

Ingredients:
—1 tbs olive oil
—1 medium onion, chopped fine (about 1 cup)
—6 medium cloves garlic, pressed through a garlic press or minced (about 2 tbs)
—1 lb. meatloaf mix or 1/3 lb. each ground beef chuck, ground veal, and ground pork. (Note: ½ lb ground beef and a ½ lb sweet Italian sausage removed from the casings can also be substituted.)
—1/2 tsp table salt (TRG note: increase to ¾ tsp if you like things a little saltier)
—1/2 tsp ground black pepper
—1/4 cup heavy cream
—1 28-oz can tomato purée
—1 28-oz can diced tomatoes, drained
—1/4 tsp dried oregano (TRG note: optional)
—15 oz ricotta cheese (whole milk or part skim), (1¾ cups)
—2½ oz grated Parmesan cheese (1¼ cups)
—1/2 cup chopped fresh basil (TRG note: plus an additional ¼ tsp for the sauce, if desired)
—1 large egg, lightly beaten
—1/2 tsp table salt
—1/2 tsp ground black pepper
—12 no-boil lasagna noodles from one 8- or 9-ounce package.
—16 oz whole milk mozzarella, shredded (4 cups)

Directions:
—Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 375˚.
—Heat oil in large, heavy-bottomed Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering but not smoking, about 2 minutes; add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened but not browned, about 2 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 2 minutes.
—Increase heat to medium-high and add ground meats, salt, and pepper; cook, breaking meat into small pieces with wooden spoon, until meat loses its raw color but has not browned, about 4 minutes.
—Add cream and simmer, stirring occasionally, until liquid evaporates and only fat remains, about 4 minutes. Add pureed and drained diced tomatoes and bring to simmer, along with 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil and 1/4 tsp dried oregano (if using); reduce heat to low and simmer slowly until flavors are blended, about 3 minutes; set sauce aside. (Sauce can be cooled, covered, and refrigerated for up to 2 days; reheat before assembling lasagna.)
—Mix ricotta, 1 cup Parmesan, basil, egg, salt, and pepper in medium bowl with fork until well-combined and creamy; set aside.
—Smear entire bottom of a 9- by 13-inch baking dish with ¼ cup meat sauce. Place three noodles on top of sauce, then drop 3 tbs ricotta mixture down center of each noodle, leveling the cheese by pressing flat with back of measuring spoon. Sprinkle evenly with 1 cup shredded mozzarella, and spoon 1½ cups meat sauce evenly across the cheese. Repeat layering of noodles, ricotta, mozzarella, and sauce two more times. Place three remaining noodles on top of sauce, spread remaining sauce over noodles, sprinkle with remaining cup mozzarella, then with remaining ¼ cup Parmesan.
—Lightly spray a large sheet of foil with nonstick cooking spray and cover lasagna. Bake 15 minutes, then remove foil. Return lasagna to oven and continue to bake until cheese is spotty brown and sauce is bubbling, about 25 minutes longer. Cool lasagna about 10 minutes; cut into pieces and serve.

Serves 6 to 8

The post 01/17/13 • SPEED DEMONS’ LASAGNA appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Oct., 2011 Esquire (click here to view the recipe)

In the last week I’ve eaten pork braciola at Frankie’s 570 (the new West Village outpost of Frankie’s Spuntino); a big bowl of papardelle with a braised rabbit ragu at a newly resurgent Morandi; a large marinara and cheese pizza at Tappo in Chelsea; and, from the Sunday Gravy stand located at Smorgasburg — the open air food market held each Saturday at the Brooklyn Flea — a special delivery of the aforementioned gravy (which to the uninitiated is basically a spaghetti sauce thickened up with ample chunks of pork meat and sausage). All this may sound like red-sauce overload to some, but to me it sounds just about perfect — especially now that there’s a chill in the air.

I sometimes think I could serve myself a bowl of freshly made marinara sauce with nothing else and be perfectly content. And I probably would be, though my stomach might not. So instead I’m constantly on the hunt for other ways to get my red sauce fix. Of course there’s the obvious spaghetti option, but as good as that can be, eat a half pound of the stuff (sorry, I can’t do less) and I tend not to feel so great — especially the morning after when I wake up with a kind of carbohydrate hangover, all woozy and slow. Which means I’ve had to be a little more wide-ranging in my red sauce alliances.

The good news is that there’s plenty you can do with tomato sauce beyond pouring it over spaghetti or layering it between sheets of pasta (see first paragraph for details). Notable among this group is the meatball, which for pure marina compatibility has few equals. Despite the fact that meatballs have begun showing up on an increasing number of restaurant menus around town, and is even the featured item at one popular chain-let, The Meatball Shop, I’ll go out on a limb and say that where meatballs are concerned, no one wants a naked ball. In other words, it’s all (or mostly) about the tomato sauce — at least it is for me. You can layer a meatball with raisins or pine nuts, lard them with chunks of bacon, add more cheese to the mix, or less, but without the sauce, you don’t have much.

The right sauce, however — a good sauce flecked with fresh basil and the tang of garlic and oregano — can propel a so-so meatball to memorable heights, and an excellent meatball outta this world. It’s a response I’m not unfamiliar with, and one reason why a new meatball recipe can stop me in my tracks. That’s exactly what happened when I opened this month’s issue of Esquire and came across Shane Solomon’s meatball recipe. Solomon is the chef at the popular Pizzeria Stella in Philadelphia, and Philadelphia is one city that knows its way around Italian/American cooking. But beyond that, I figured if any resource could teach me a thing or two about meatballs, it would be a men’s magazine. Because let’s face it, meatballs may have their share of female acolytes, but if you’re going to assign this particular dish a gender, we’re definitely in the land of man food here.

One reason for this is that most men I know live in fear of leaving the table hungry — something that’s pretty unlikely when meatballs are on the menu. Eat just two or three and even the biggest appetite is likely to be satisfied. Which makes the fact that the attached recipe produces 25 to 30 meatballs something of a head-scratcher, because unless you’re feeding the starting lineup for the New York Jets, that’s a lot more meatballs than you’re going to want. Of course, you can always freeze what you don’t use (and, admittedly, you could do a lot worse than having a dozen meatballs sitting in your freezer), but considering the chopping, grating, and frying time involved here, I’d suggest reducing the recipe by half, cutting all of the ingredients by fifty percent with the exception of the grated cheese (you’ll want all of this for flavor, and maybe a littler more, too).

Either way, assembly is pretty straight ahead, with a gentle mixing of the meat, eggs, cheese, onions, garlic, and herbs, followed by the addition of the milk/breadcrumb mixture. Instead of shaping the balls with your hands, however, the recipe suggests using an old-fashioned trigger ice-cream scoop, which ensures a uniformity of size and shape, and has the added benefit of eliminating any air pockets that might be lurking in your pre-cooked meatballs. Once that critical step is complete and all your meatballs are in formation, it’s time to start frying. The goal here is not to cook the meatballs (that comes later) so much as to brown them, so pour just a ¼ inch of canola oil into your pan, heat until rippling, and crisp all sides of the meat. Be prepared to work in batches, though, as browning meatballs can be like herding cats. In other words, you’ll need room to maneuver.

Once browned, place the meatballs in an ovenproof casserole, fully blanket them with tomato sauce, and bake in a 350-degree oven for between 1¾ and 2 hours. This to me is the real genius of the recipe as it eliminates one of the problems I’ve often encountered on previous meatball-making outings — namely, that simply frying the meatballs can leave them with a disconcertingly soft center. What’s more, baking the meatballs and the sauce together allows the meat flavors to permeate the sauce, and the sauce to work its way into the meat. Solomon suggests serving the meatballs atop a small base of polenta, which provides some of that starchy goodness we associate with the traditional spaghetti accompaniment (minus the morning-after regret), while also providing a great way to sop up all that wonderful meat-infused sauce. Of course, you can always just tear off a hunk of Italian bread and dip and ladle to your heart’s content. Either way, be sure to have plenty of grated Parmesan cheese on hand; these babies should look like the Matterhorn before you ever introduce your fork.

A few final thoughts on the recipe: while Solomon suggests the addition of some finely minced pancetta or smoked bacon into the meat mix, I found the flavor an unnecessary addition. Follow your instincts here, but for what it’s worth I’ve marked this ingredient as optional in the list below. Also, given my enthusiasm for red sauce, it will come as no surprise that I have a favorite recipe for this favorite item. I pulled it from Fine Cooking a decade ago and have never looked back (I’m a one red-sauce recipe man). It’s just the thing for these meatballs, and it’s included below.

Ingredients for meatballs:
—1 lb ground beef (no more than 20% fat; lean meat is critical)
—1 lb ground veal
—1 lb ground pork
—1 lb pancetta or slab bacon (optional)
—2 whole eggs
—1/3 cup finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (more as needed — as much as one cup for the meatballs; plus more for serving)
—1/2 cup finely diced yellow onion
—8 garlic cloves, minced
—1/4 cup finely chopped flat leaf parsley
—2 tbsp chopped fresh oregano
—2 tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
—1/3 cup fine, dry unseasoned bread crumbs
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1 tsp coarse salt (more as needed)
—1 1/2 tsp ground black pepper (more as needed)
—Canola oil
—12 cups tomato sauce (see recipe below)
—Polenta (for serving)

Note: This recipe makes 25 to 30 meatballs, so unless you’re feeding an exceptionally large crowd consider cutting the recipe in half. Do this by reducing the meat, herb, garlic, onion and milk quantities listed above by 50 percent, but leave the cheese quantity as is — it’s not that much and you’ll want it for flavor (you may even want to add more, as I did).

Directions for meatballs:
—Break up the ground meat into a large bowl then add the eggs, grated cheese, onion, garlic and herbs. Mix with your hands until everything is well distributed but don’t over-mix. Set aside.
—Slowly add milk to the breadcrumbs, stirring until the mixture has the consistency of wet sand. Immediately add to the meat mixture, season with the salt and pepper, and mix well. To taste for seasoning heat a small amount of canola oil in a small pan. When the oil is hot (it will ripple in pan) pinch off a bit of meat and fry in the oil. Taste and correct seasoning as needed. Refrigerate the meat mixture for about 30 minutes.
—Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Shape meatballs, ideally using an ice cream scoop. In a large skillet, heat about a quarter inch of canola oil until very hot. Working in batches, brown all sides of each meatball.
—As they finish, transfer browned meatballs to a deep, ovenproof casserole. Cover meatballs with tomato sauce (they must be totally submerged). Place in oven and bake until well done, about 1¾ to 2 hours. When done they should feel firm to the touch, or an instant read thermometer should read 160 degrees.
—To serve, spoon meatballs (2 or 3 per person) and sauce over polenta or simply serve with Italian bread. Top with grated cheese.

Ingredients for marinara sauce:
—3 28-ounce cans Italian plum tomatoes, whole or crushed (ideally San Marzano)
—1/2 cup olive oil
—6 cloves garlic
—1 tbsp plus 2 tsp kosher salt
—1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
—Freshly ground black pepper
—1/4 tsp dried oregano

Note: This recipe yields about 7 cups of sauce so if you’re making the full 35 meatballs you’ll want to double it.

Directions for marinara sauce:
—If you’re using whole tomatoes, put them in a large bowl and crush them with your hands. Discard any cores.
—In a 7-quart or larger saucepot, heat the oil to medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté until lightly golden brown, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and salt. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally for 45 minutes to 1 hour (the sauce will reduce and thicken slightly but shouldn’t get too thick). Stir in the basil, pepper, and oregano. Pour over meatballs.

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