Cranberry Sauerkraut Meatballs — The Last Batch I Made for Him

The world outside is falling apart. COVID-19 is everywhere now — cases doubling, hospitals preparing, the news a cascade of numbers and warnings and a fear that seeps through screens and walls and the careful protocols I've maintained for weeks. Inside this house, the world is falling apart differently. Paul's breathing is at thirty percent. The ventilator is at maximum. Margaret sits with him longer now — not measuring, not adjusting, just sitting. The sitting is the hospice signal. When the nurse sits, the end is approaching. Paul knows. His eyes tell me. The eyes are calmer now — not the frantic eye-movements of a man trying to communicate, but the steady gaze of a man who has accepted. The acceptance is in the eyes the way water is in the lake — deep, still, contained. The kids are here. All three. Anna sleeps on the couch. Peter sleeps on the floor. Elsa sleeps in her old room. Sophie goes back and forth between the house and Anna's car, where she sleeps when the house is too full. The house is a camp. A vigil. A family occupying every surface. I baked bread on Saturday. The promise. The last Saturday? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. The bread baked and the smell filled the house and Paul's eyes opened — slowly, barely — and moved toward the kitchen. The bread. He found the bread. The smell reached him. I held his hand. I said, "The bread is good today, Paul." His eyes looked at mine. The look was clear and present and peaceful and it said: I know. I'm here. The bread is good. You're here. The bread is good. I made the last batch of meatballs. Not the last forever — the last for him. The smell. I rolled them at the counter at midnight while the family slept and Paul slept and Sven slept and the kitchen was lit and the house was dark and I rolled meatballs the way I rolled them on the night of the diagnosis — alone, in the kitchen, at night, the work holding me, the roundness of the meatballs a shape with no edges. One hundred meatballs. At midnight. In March. While the world falls apart outside and inside, in different ways, for different reasons, and the meatballs don't care about viruses or breathing percentages or the particular cruelty of a disease that takes everything except the nose that smells the meatballs and the eyes that see the woman making them. The meatballs cooked. The house smelled. Paul, in his bed, in the hiss of the ventilator, breathed the smell. The smell reached him. I know it did. The smell always reaches him. Monday. The world is closing. The house is open. The family is here. The meatballs are made. Whatever comes next, the meatballs are made.

These are the meatballs I’ve made in every hard season — the recipe I reach for when my hands need something to do and my heart needs somewhere to put itself. The cranberry and sauerkraut together make a sauce that is both sweet and sharp, the way grief is, the way love is, the way a midnight kitchen smells when the rest of the house is finally quiet. If you’ve never made a hundred meatballs alone at midnight, I hope you never have a reason to — but I also hope, if you do, that you have this recipe waiting for you.

Cranberry Sauerkraut Meatballs

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 2 lbs lean ground beef
• 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten
• 1 small yellow onion, finely grated
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 1/2 tsp black pepper
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• 1/4 tsp ground allspice
• 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1 can (14 oz) whole berry cranberry sauce
• 1 can (16 oz) sauerkraut, drained and rinsed
• 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1/2 cup ketchup
• 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line two large rimmed baking sheets with foil and lightly grease them.
2. Mix the meatballs. In a large bowl, combine the ground beef, breadcrumbs, milk, egg, grated onion, salt, pepper, garlic powder, allspice, and nutmeg. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overwork the meat.
3. Roll. Using about 1 tablespoon of mixture per meatball, roll into smooth rounds between your palms. Arrange in a single layer on the prepared baking sheets. This batch makes approximately 50–60 meatballs.
4. Bake. Bake for 18–20 minutes, until browned and cooked through. Remove from oven and set aside.
5. Make the sauce. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, stir together the cranberry sauce, drained sauerkraut, brown sugar, ketchup, and Worcestershire sauce. Bring to a gentle simmer, stirring until the sugar is dissolved and the sauce is uniform.
6. Combine. Add the baked meatballs to the sauce, turning gently to coat. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 25–30 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the sauce thickens and the meatballs are deeply glazed.
7. Rest and serve. Let stand 5 minutes before serving. Serve over egg noodles or mashed potatoes, or on their own straight from the pot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 375 | Protein: 23g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 37g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 670mg