Dutch Meatballs (Bitterballen)

Danny's birthday. August 14th. He'd be twenty-four. I went to Holy Cross Cemetery after my brewery shift. Evening. Golden light through the trees. The headstone, familiar as a face: Daniel "Danny" Katz, 1996-2013, Beloved Son. Smash burgers in foil, still warm. Day Off IPA, two bottles. I set one against the headstone. Opened the other. "Twenty-four, Danny. You'd be a college graduate now. Or not — you hated school. Maybe you'd be working somewhere, living somewhere, dating someone. Maybe you'd be sitting on my balcony eating these burgers and telling me the IPA is too hoppy because you'd definitely be a Miller Lite guy." I told him about RecipeSpinoff. About the hundred thousand reads. About the cookbook publisher. About the fifteen-month plan for Helen's. "I'm going to name a stool after you," I said. "Stool number eight. Right at the counter. Your spot. You'll never have to pay." The cemetery was quiet. A robin sang. The light turned from gold to amber. "I miss you, man. Every single day. But I'm doing something with the missing. I'm turning it into food and words and a dream that you'd think is crazy and also kind of cool. You'd come to Helen's every day and order everything and tip nothing and I'd pretend to be mad and we'd both know I wasn't. That's the deal. That's what we would have had." Dinner at the Katz house. Steve and Rachel, masked, outdoors on their patio. Rachel's brisket. My pierogi. The annual exchange of Jewish comfort food and Polish dumplings over the memory of a boy who loved neither but would have loved both if he'd had the time to learn. Rachel held my hand at the door when I left (masked, brief) and said, "You're doing beautiful things, Jake. Danny sees it." Whether he does or doesn't, I believe she believes it, and that's enough. Eight years next March. The room is still dark. I still open the door. But the room has furniture now — memories, conversations, smash burgers on headstones. It's a room I've learned to live with.

Every year I bring pierogi to Steve and Rachel’s — my contribution to the table, Polish dumplings meeting Jewish brisket over the memory of a kid who deserved more years to develop his own food opinions. What I love about that ritual is what it shares with bitterballen: both are European comfort food built around the same idea, a warm, savory filling tucked inside a crisp shell, made to be passed and shared and eaten standing up in someone’s kitchen. I’ve been working on this bitterballen recipe as something to add to the rotation, because a table that holds two traditions can always find room for a third, and because Danny would have eaten twelve of these and called it a light snack.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 2 hr 50 min (includes chilling) | Servings: 6 (about 24 balls)

Ingredients

3 tbsp unsalted butter
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 tbsp all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups beef broth
2 1/2 cups cooked beef (roast beef or braised chuck), very finely shredded or minced
2 tbsp fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1/2 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups fine dry breadcrumbs
Neutral oil, for deep frying (about 4 cups)
Whole-grain or yellow mustard, for serving

Instructions

Make the ragout. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour and stir constantly for 1 to 2 minutes to cook out the raw flour taste.
Add broth and thicken. Pour in the beef broth in a slow, steady stream, whisking constantly to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture is very thick and pulls away slightly from the sides of the pan, about 4 to 5 minutes.
Fold in the beef. Remove from heat. Stir in the shredded beef, parsley, nutmeg, salt, and pepper until evenly combined. Taste and adjust seasoning. Transfer to a shallow dish or sheet pan, press plastic wrap directly onto the surface, and refrigerate until completely firm, at least 2 hours or overnight.
Shape the balls. Using a small cookie scoop or two spoons, portion the chilled mixture into rounds about 1 1/4 inches in diameter (roughly 1 heaping tablespoon each). Roll each between your palms into a smooth ball. Place on a parchment-lined tray.
Bread the bitterballen. Set up a breading station with beaten eggs in one shallow bowl and breadcrumbs in another. Working a few at a time, dip each ball in the egg, letting excess drip off, then roll firmly in breadcrumbs to coat completely. Return to the tray. For a sturdier crust, repeat the egg-and-breadcrumb step once more. Refrigerate breaded balls for 15 minutes while you heat the oil.
Fry until golden. Heat 3 to 4 inches of neutral oil in a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to 350°F. Working in small batches of 5 to 6 to avoid crowding, fry the bitterballen, turning occasionally, until deeply golden brown on all sides, about 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack or paper-towel-lined plate. Season lightly with salt while hot.
Serve immediately. Arrange on a platter with a small bowl of whole-grain or yellow mustard for dipping. Bitterballen are best eaten hot, within minutes of frying, when the shell is at its crispest and the filling is molten and rich.

Nutrition (per serving)

Dutch Meatballs (Bitterballen) — The Comfort We Carry to the Table