Stuffed Meatballs — The Taste of Fifth Street, Still the Same

The cold broke on Wednesday. Broke is the right word — it didn't ease or soften, it broke, like a fever. Twenty-two degrees felt tropical. Paul walked for an hour. Sven rolled in the snow. I stood on the porch without a hat and let the relatively warm air touch my face and thought: this is what passes for spring in January. We take what we can get. Mamma's birthday was Thursday. Eighty-six. I drove to Fifth Street with a sockerkaka — the sugar cake, her birthday cake, the only cake she wants — and a card signed by everyone. Anna called. Peter called (he answered when I reminded him three times). Elsa called from Ely. Erik was already there, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee, the way he sits at Mamma's kitchen table every Thursday because Mamma is his mother and he is the son who stayed and Thursday is the day he checks on her. Mamma blew out her candles — eight plus one, because eighty-six individual candles would be a fire hazard and also because Mamma doesn't need a forest fire on her cake, she needs cake. She made a wish. She won't say what it was. She never does. Pappa used to guess: "More lingonberries? A new bread pan? For Linda to learn to make meatballs as well as you?" Mamma would smile and say nothing. I miss those guesses. She's eighty-six and she's strong. Her mind is sharp. Her body is — eighty-six. The fall last summer left her more cautious on stairs, which I consider a good outcome because Mamma being cautious about anything is a medical miracle. She still gardens, still cooks, still goes to church, still calls me every Sunday to tell me something I'm doing wrong in a tone that suggests she's doing me a favor, which she is. I made her favorite dinner: korv — the potato sausage, the same one I made in my first blog post, the one that Mamma taught me, the one that goes back to the kitchen in Sweden where someone whose name I don't know stuffed the casings for the first time. I brought it to her house and we ate together — me, Mamma, Erik — at the table where I ate every meal of my childhood. The table is scarred and old and the chairs don't all match and Mamma won't replace any of it because replacement implies the original was insufficient, and Ingrid Johansson's furniture is never insufficient. I drove home in the dark. The road between Fifth Street and Kenwood is ten minutes and I've driven it ten thousand times and I could drive it blind but I don't want to because I want to see the lake as I pass it, even in the dark, even when it's just a blackness that's different from the blackness of the land. The lake is always there. That's the thing about living near it. You never forget that the water is there, holding up the world. Paul was asleep when I got home. Sven was on his bed. The house was warm. I stood in the kitchen and thought: eighty-six. My mother is eighty-six. And I'm fifty-three. And the numbers keep getting bigger and the people keep getting fewer and the table at Fifth Street keeps getting emptier but the food stays the same and the love stays the same and that has to be enough.

Standing in that warm kitchen, counting years and people and empty chairs, I needed to make something that held together—something with a center that doesn’t give way. Mamma’s stuffed meatballs are exactly that: round and whole on the outside, with something tucked safely inside, which felt like the right thing to make on a night when I was thinking about what we carry and what we keep. I’ve made them so many times I don’t need to think, and sometimes not thinking is its own kind of relief. Here’s how they go.

Stuffed Meatballs

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs ground pork (or a mix of pork and beef)
• 1/2 cup mashed potato, cooled
• 1/3 cup finely grated onion
• 1/3 cup plain breadcrumbs
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon white pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 4 oz sharp cheddar or Havarti, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (for stuffing)
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil
• 1 cup beef or chicken broth
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

1. Mix the meat. In a large bowl, combine the ground pork, mashed potato, grated onion, breadcrumbs, egg, salt, white pepper, allspice, and nutmeg. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overwork or the meatballs will be tough.
2. Stuff and roll. Scoop about 2 tablespoons of the meat mixture into your palm and flatten it slightly. Place one cube of cheese in the center, then close the meat around it and roll into a smooth ball. Repeat with the remaining mixture. You should get approximately 18–20 meatballs.
3. Chill briefly. Set the meatballs on a parchment-lined tray and refrigerate for 10 minutes. This helps them hold their shape during cooking.
4. Brown the meatballs. Heat butter and oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add the meatballs and cook, turning occasionally, until browned on all sides, about 6–8 minutes per batch. Transfer to a plate.
5. Make the pan sauce. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the skillet. Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute. Add the broth and stir, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a simmer.
6. Finish together. Return the meatballs to the skillet. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook for 12–15 minutes until cooked through. Remove from heat, stir in the sour cream, and season to taste. Serve over mashed potatoes or egg noodles, with parsley scattered on top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 540mg