Ricotta Meatballs

Marcus starts high school. Ninth grade at the magnet school. He walked into that building on Monday morning wearing a backpack that cost more than my first couch and the expression of a boy who has prepared for this moment through four years of debate victories and one essay about a Folgers can. I drove him. He didn't want me to drive him. I drove him anyway. I said, "Have a good day." He said, "I'll have a great day." He got out of the car and walked into the building and he didn't look back and the not-looking-back was the right thing and it broke my heart and filled it simultaneously.

Jasmine starts 7th grade. She is twelve in December and she walks into middle school now with the confidence of a girl who has been the new kid and survived and who sings solos and makes cornbread and knows things that other twelve-year-olds don't know yet: that grief is survivable, that kitchens are cathedrals, that a woman's power lives in her hands. She went to school singing. She came home singing. She has not stopped singing since she was nine. She will not stop.

I am back at work. New school year, new students, same mission: listen, hold space, keep crackers in the desk drawer. The students this year include a new 6th grader named Amaya who reminds me of Destiny — sharp, guarded, the kind of smart that comes from surviving things kids shouldn't have to survive. I gave her my card. I said, "My door is always open." She looked at the card. She looked at me. She didn't say anything. She doesn't need to yet. She just needs to know the door exists.

Made first-day-of-school dinner: the traditional spaghetti and meatballs, plus garlic bread, plus a green salad that Marcus ate three leaves of and called it "his vegetable." One day that boy will eat a full salad. Today is not that day. Today is spaghetti. Today is the first day of high school and the first day of 7th grade and the kitchen smells like garlic and the table seats three and the three of us are here and the year begins.

Every year, no matter what grade, no matter what school, no matter how bittersweet the drop-off, this is the dinner that waits at the end of it — spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, a salad that at least one person will eat three leaves of and call sufficient. I make these ricotta meatballs because the ricotta keeps them impossibly tender, and on a night when Marcus walked into high school without looking back and Jasmine sang her way through 7th grade, tender felt exactly right. The table seats three. The three of us were there. That’s everything.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6 (about 24 meatballs)

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef (80/20)
1/2 lb ground pork
3/4 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
2 large eggs
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
2 tablespoons olive oil, for browning
1 jar (24 oz) marinara sauce, or homemade

Instructions

Combine the mixture. In a large bowl, combine ground beef, ground pork, ricotta, Parmesan, breadcrumbs, eggs, garlic, parsley, oregano, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Mix gently with your hands just until combined — do not overwork the meat.
Form the meatballs. Using a 1.5-tablespoon scoop or your hands, roll the mixture into balls about the size of a golf ball. You should get roughly 22–24 meatballs. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet as you go.
Brown in batches. Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add meatballs in a single layer without crowding. Sear for 2–3 minutes per side until browned. Transfer browned meatballs back to the baking sheet. They do not need to be cooked through at this stage.
Simmer in sauce. Pour marinara sauce into the same skillet. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat, scraping up any browned bits. Nestle all the meatballs into the sauce, reduce heat to medium-low, and cover. Simmer for 15–18 minutes, until meatballs are cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F).
Serve. Spoon meatballs and sauce over cooked spaghetti. Finish with additional Parmesan and a scattering of fresh parsley. Serve immediately with garlic bread and whatever salad your household will tolerate.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ricotta Meatballs — The First-Day Dinner That Marks the Year