Spaghetti and Meatballs

March is almost here, and with it the turn from winter to something else. February is ending and I am ready for it to end, because February carries the weight of the affair discovery and the weight of winter and the weight of the particular exhaustion that comes from holding everything together. I am tired. Not the dramatic tired of crisis but the low-grade, persistent tired of the long haul, which is the tired that nobody sees.

Robert noticed. He came home on Tuesday with takeout from the Thai restaurant we like, and he set the table, and he said, "You don't have to cook tonight," and the sentence — six words, unremarkable — hit me with the force of a kindness I didn't know I needed. I sat at the table and ate food I didn't make and thought: this is what showing up looks like. Takeout on a Tuesday because your wife's face told you she was tired. That is the love that survived the affair.

I visited Joy on Saturday. She was having a particularly good day — present, verbal, laughing at a joke she repeated to me four times, each time laughing as hard as the first. The joke was not funny. Joy's laughter was. It is the most genuine sound in the world.

I made shrimp perloo again this week, the second time recently, because perloo is the dish I make when I want to cook without thinking, when I want my hands to do what they know how to do without my brain interfering.

Mama's voice on the phone this week was strong. She told me she'd organized the church potluck last Sunday and made three dishes: she-crab soup, collard greens, and banana pudding. "I'm not dead yet," she said, which is her response to any implied concern and which I accept as both reassurance and warning.

Perloo was what I made this week, but spaghetti and meatballs is the dish that lives in the same drawer — the one I reach for when I need my hands to lead and my mind to follow, when the weight of February and the long haul of healing calls for something warm and familiar and unapologetically simple. Robert’s six words on Tuesday reminded me that being sustained doesn’t always mean grand gestures; sometimes it’s just a pot on the stove, the smell of sauce, and the knowledge that you’ve made this a hundred times before and you can make it again tonight.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb spaghetti
1 lb ground beef (80/20)
1/2 lb ground pork
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
1/4 cup whole milk
1/3 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
1 large egg
3 cloves garlic, minced (divided)
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Fresh basil, for serving

Instructions

Make the meatball mixture. In a large bowl, combine breadcrumbs and milk; let sit 2 minutes to absorb. Add ground beef, ground pork, Parmesan, egg, half the minced garlic, parsley, salt, pepper, and oregano. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overwork.
Form the meatballs. Roll mixture into balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter (roughly the size of a golf ball). You should get about 20–24 meatballs. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Brown the meatballs. Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches, brown meatballs on all sides, about 5–6 minutes total per batch. They do not need to be cooked through. Remove and set aside.
Build the sauce. In the same pan, reduce heat to medium and add diced onion. Cook 4–5 minutes until softened. Add remaining garlic and red pepper flakes; cook 1 minute until fragrant. Pour in crushed tomatoes and diced tomatoes. Stir in sugar, season with salt and pepper.
Simmer the meatballs. Nestle browned meatballs into the sauce. Bring to a gentle simmer, cover partially, and cook 20 minutes, turning meatballs once halfway through, until cooked through and sauce has thickened.
Cook the pasta. While sauce simmers, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining.
Finish and serve. Toss drained spaghetti with a ladleful of sauce to coat, adding a splash of pasta water if needed to loosen. Plate pasta, spoon meatballs and sauce over the top. Finish with Parmesan and fresh basil.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spaghetti and Meatballs — The Dish My Hands Know How to Make