Meatballs — The Recipe That Holds the Line When Everything Else Is Moving

Processing the move. Mom called and I heard it in her voice — the specific control of a woman who is not going to cry about this, at least not on the phone. 'California is beautiful,' she said. 'Your father and I loved it when he was stationed at Coronado. The weather is perfect.' She's spinning. She's finding the positives. She's doing the military wife thing where you reframe every loss as an opportunity because if you don't, the losses bury you. 'You'll be five hours by plane,' she continued. 'We'll visit. Holidays. Summers. We'll visit.' 'I know, Mom.' 'And FaceTime. Caleb can FaceTime with us. He'll know our faces.' 'Mom. I know.' She was quiet. Then: 'I don't want you to go, Rachel. I'm not going to pretend I do. I want you here. Or in Norfolk. Or anywhere that's a four-hour drive.' 'I know, Mom.' 'But you're a military wife. And military wives go where they're sent. And they make it work. And they call their mothers every night.' 'Every night.' 'Every night, Rachel. Don't you dare stop calling.' I won't. I'll never stop calling. Even when I'm in California and she's in Virginia and the time zones are different and dinner at 1800 her time is 1500 my time. I'll call. Because the phone line is the thread that holds this family together across oceans and continents and the arbitrary geography of military life. Dad took it differently. 'California,' he said. 'Good growing climate. You can have tomatoes year-round.' His response to his daughter moving to the other side of the country: agricultural analysis. I love this man. Caleb is five months old and has no idea that his life is about to change. He's going to move to a place he's never been, live in a home he's never seen, and adapt because he's an Abernathy baby and Abernathy babies adapt. It's in the genes. I made Mom's meatloaf tonight. The comfort food. The onion soup mix. The food of stability in the face of change. Ten weeks until California. The boxes aren't packed yet. But the recipe binder is in my bag. Always in my bag.

I didn’t have everything Mom’s meatloaf calls for — the onion soup mix was gone, and honestly the apartment felt too quiet to attempt the real thing. So I made meatballs instead, which is close enough when what you actually need is something that smells like a kitchen that’s been cooked in for thirty years. My hands did the work while my brain stayed on the phone call, and by the time they came out of the oven, I felt just steady enough to keep going.

Meatballs

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs ground beef (80/20)
• 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon Italian seasoning

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil and lightly grease it.
2. Soak the breadcrumbs. In a large bowl, combine the breadcrumbs and milk. Let sit for 2–3 minutes until the milk is absorbed. This keeps the meatballs tender.
3. Mix the meat. Add the ground beef, egg, Parmesan, garlic, parsley, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning to the bowl. Mix with your hands just until combined — do not overwork or the meatballs will be tough.
4. Form the meatballs. Roll mixture into balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter (roughly the size of a golf ball). You should get 24–28 meatballs. Place them 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheet.
5. Bake. Bake for 20–25 minutes, until cooked through and lightly browned on the outside. Internal temperature should reach 165°F.
6. Serve. Serve over pasta with marinara, alongside mashed potatoes, or straight from the pan with a fork when no one is looking.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 540mg