Easy Banh Mi Sandwiches {Vietnamese Meatball Sub} — The Night I Rolled Two Hundred

December 20. The neurology appointment. We drove to Minneapolis — same highway, same four hours, same silence. This time I drove because my hands were steady and Paul's hands were — I wanted them to rest. Dr. Andersen repeated the EMG. More muscle groups this time. Arms, legs, the small muscles of the hand. I sat in the waiting room and read a magazine about lake homes and didn't absorb a single word. The clock on the wall was slow, or I was fast, or time had decided to be difficult. Paul came out after ninety minutes. His face was — composed. Teacher's face. The face he wears when he's in front of a class delivering information that matters. He sat next to me in the waiting room and said, "She wants to talk to both of us." We went into Dr. Andersen's office. She had the EMG results on her screen. She was kind. She was thorough. She said words that I already knew — progressive denervation, motor neuron involvement, clinical presentation consistent with — and then she said the word. The word I hadn't said. The word I'd been circling for six months, reading about in the bathroom, studying from a distance, the word that I knew was coming the way you know weather is coming, by the pressure in the air. She said she wanted to confirm with additional testing. She said the progression was early. She said there were treatment options that could slow it. She said she was sorry. I don't remember what Paul said. I don't remember what I said. I remember the drive home. Paul was in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the December highway, and he was quiet for fifty miles. Then he said, "Well, this is going to be hard." This is going to be hard. Paul Johansson, understating the apocalypse. This is who he is. This is who he's always been. The man who looks at the worst thing and says, "Well." I drove. I kept my hands at ten and two. I kept my eyes on the road. I did not pull over. I did not cry. I drove four hours in the dark on a December highway with the worst news of my life sitting in the passenger seat and I drove because that's what nurses do. You get the worst news. You keep functioning. You fall apart later. We got home at eight. Sven was at the door. Paul sat on the floor and hugged the dog and Sven licked his face and Paul said, "Good boy, Sven. Good boy." I went to the kitchen. I stood at the counter. The julbord preparations were everywhere — the meatballs half-rolled, the herring curing, the advent candles burning. Christmas was four days away. I picked up the rolling. I shaped a meatball. Then another. Then another. The rolling steadied me. The work held me. I rolled meatballs until eleven PM, alone in the kitchen, while Paul slept in his chair and Sven slept at his feet and the advent candles burned down and the snow fell and the word sat in the house like a new piece of furniture that I hadn't invited and couldn't return. The meatballs were done. Two hundred. Ready for Christmas. Christmas. We're still doing Christmas. The word doesn't cancel Christmas. The word doesn't cancel anything. It changes everything, but it cancels nothing. We are still here. The meatballs are rolled. The candles are burning. We are still here.

The Swedish meatballs I rolled that December night belong to the julbord — to Christmas, to Paul, to a tradition I am not ready to let grief touch. But meatballs are meatballs, and rolling is rolling, and this Vietnamese meatball sub has become the version I make on ordinary Tuesdays when I need my hands to be useful and my mind to go quiet. It is faster than the julbord recipe, brighter, a little loud with heat and herbs — which is, I’ve decided, exactly right. Grief doesn’t always want something soft. Sometimes it wants something that bites back.

Easy Banh Mi Sandwiches {Vietnamese Meatball Sub}

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• For the quick-pickled vegetables:
• 1 cup carrots, julienned or coarsely shredded
• 1 cup daikon radish, julienned
• 1/4 cup rice vinegar
• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• For the meatballs:
• 1 lb ground pork (or a mix of pork and beef)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 green onions, finely minced
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon soy sauce
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil, for the pan
• For assembly:
• 4 hoagie rolls or 12-inch baguette, cut into 4 sections
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon Sriracha (or to taste)
• 1/2 English cucumber, thinly sliced
• 1 jalapeño, thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves

Instructions

1. Pickle the vegetables. Combine the julienned carrots and daikon in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan, bring the rice vinegar, sugar, and salt to a brief simmer over medium heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves, about 2 minutes. Pour the brine over the vegetables, press them down so they are submerged, and set aside to pickle while you make the meatballs. They will be ready in about 20 minutes.
2. Mix the meatballs. In a large bowl, combine the ground pork, garlic, green onions, fish sauce, soy sauce, sesame oil, cornstarch, and black pepper. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — overmixing makes them dense. The mixture will be soft and slightly sticky.
3. Roll and sear. Roll the mixture into balls about 1 and 1/4 inches in diameter (roughly the size of a large grape). You should get about 20 to 24 meatballs. Heat the neutral oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the meatballs in a single layer without crowding (work in batches if needed) and sear, turning occasionally, until browned on all sides and cooked through, about 10 to 12 minutes. An instant-read thermometer should read 160°F at the center.
4. Make the Sriracha mayo. While the meatballs finish cooking, stir together the mayonnaise and Sriracha in a small bowl until smooth. Taste and adjust heat to your liking.
5. Toast the rolls. Split the rolls and toast them cut-side down in the same pan you used for the meatballs, or under a broiler, until lightly golden, about 1 to 2 minutes. The pan drippings add flavor.
6. Assemble. Spread a generous layer of Sriracha mayo on both cut sides of each roll. Lay cucumber slices down the length of the roll. Nestle 5 to 6 meatballs per sandwich. Top with a tangle of pickled vegetables, jalapeño slices, and a handful of fresh cilantro. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 530 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 49g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 1,050mg