By Last week of February and March is coming and March means the wall comes down and the kitchen becomes the thing I have imagined — vast, open, the kind of kitchen that says this woman feeds an army and she does it with love and she needs the counter space to prove it.
Sofia came back from Brooklyn raving about David cooking. She said, Mami, David made me the best pasta. I said, Pasta? She said, Pasta with shrimp and garlic and white wine. I said, Sofia, David is a chef. He does not make pasta for his sister. He performs pasta for his sister. She rolled her eyes. I said, How was the mofongo? She said, We did not have mofongo. I said, You went to Brooklyn to visit your brother the chef and you did not have mofongo? This is a Delgado failure of the highest order. She said, We had ramen. RAMEN. I need to have a conversation with David about his responsibilities as a Puerto Rican chef and his obligation to serve his family proper food and not Japanese soup, however delicious Japanese soup may be.
At the hospital, winter flu season is winding down. The worst of it is over — the surge, the extra trays, the staff calling in sick. We survived it. We always survive it. Twenty-two years of flu seasons and not one has beaten my kitchen. Not one has disrupted my service. Not one has resulted in a patient going without a meal. This is my legacy. Not a plaque on a wall. Not a newspaper article. The legacy is: nobody went hungry. Not on my watch. Not ever.
Made alcapurrias this weekend. Not for any reason — just because the weekend was cold and the kitchen was warm and alcapurrias are the perfect cold-weather food. Fried, crispy, the green banana and yautia masa giving way to the seasoned beef filling inside, each one a small package of warmth and tradition. I made twenty-four. Eduardo ate six. Mami ate two and said they were acceptable. Acceptable from Mami is a B-plus from a professor who has never given an A. I accept the B-plus. I file it next to perfect and right and close. The grades are getting better. The fog is getting worse. The alcapurrias are getting crispier. Some things improve while other things decline and you hold both and you keep cooking. Both. Always both.
The alcapurrias reminded me — as they always do — that the best food is fried food, that fried food belongs to cold weekends, and that a warm kitchen and a hot pan are their own kind of medicine. I made these meatball taquitos the very next day because the oil was still on my mind and the crunch was still what I wanted: something small and golden and sealed tight, something you hold in your hand and eat in two bites and reach for another. Eduardo approved. Mami has not yet tried them. I am not asking for that grade twice in one week.
Mama Mia Meatball Taquitos
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 6 (12 taquitos)
Ingredients
- 24 small frozen or homemade meatballs (about 1 inch), fully cooked and thawed
- 12 small flour tortillas (6-inch)
- 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
- 1/2 cup marinara sauce, plus extra for dipping
- 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 2 inches deep)
- Toothpicks, for securing
- Fresh basil and grated Parmesan, for serving
Instructions
- Prep the meatballs. Using a fork or the back of a spoon, gently flatten each meatball slightly so it will roll neatly inside the tortilla. In a small bowl, stir together the Italian seasoning, garlic powder, and red pepper flakes.
- Warm the tortillas. Heat a dry skillet over medium heat or wrap the tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30 seconds. Warm tortillas are flexible and won’t crack when you roll them.
- Assemble the taquitos. Lay a tortilla flat. Spread about 1 teaspoon of marinara sauce down the center, then sprinkle with a pinch of the seasoning blend. Place 2 meatballs end to end along the lower third of the tortilla and top with a tablespoon of shredded mozzarella. Roll tightly and secure with a toothpick. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
- Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven to a depth of about 2 inches. Heat over medium-high heat until the oil reaches 350°F, or until a small piece of tortilla sizzles immediately on contact.
- Fry the taquitos. Working in batches of 3–4, carefully lower the taquitos seam-side down into the hot oil. Fry for 2–3 minutes per side, turning once, until deeply golden and crispy all over. Remove with tongs and drain on a paper towel–lined plate. Remove toothpicks before serving.
- Serve. Arrange on a platter and shower with grated Parmesan and fresh basil. Serve immediately alongside warm marinara sauce for dipping.
Nutrition (per serving — 2 taquitos)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 17g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 610mg