Sweet and Sour Beef — The Meatball Week, Mamma’s Kitchen, and the Comfort of Beef

Another week. Another set of sunrises over Lake Superior. Another set of meals cooked for one and eaten at a table set for two. The two-place setting is the thing the kids have stopped commenting on. They used to remark when they came to visit. They used to gently suggest, in the way grown children gently suggest, that perhaps it was time to set just one. Now they set their own additional plates around mine and they let Paul's plate be Paul's plate. The setting is the love. The setting is the staying. Elsa called from Voyageurs. She had a sighting of a wolf — a single gray adult crossing a frozen bay at dawn, fifty yards from her cabin. She had a sighting of a moose two days later. She is happy in the woods. I am glad someone in this family is happy in the woods. I have always loved Lake Superior, but the deeper woods are not for me. Elsa is for the deeper woods. The match is right. Anna sent photos from Minneapolis — the kids in their school uniforms, David's new bookshelf, the dog (their dog, not mine; their dog is named Cooper, and Cooper is a Bernese mountain dog who weighs more than Anna and who is, by all accounts, the most relaxed dog in the upper Midwest). I printed three of the photos and put them on the fridge. The fridge holds the family that is not currently in the kitchen. I cooked Köttbullar with cream gravy this week. Mamma's meatballs. The exact recipe. Beef and pork in equal measure, breadcrumbs soaked in milk, one egg, grated onion, salt, pepper, allspice, the secret pinch of ground ginger that nobody else uses. Rolled small, browned in butter, finished in cream gravy with a spoon of soy sauce (the inauthentic Mamma trick that makes it taste right). Served with mashed potatoes and lingonberry preserves. Thursday: soup. Always soup. Gerald said, "You are the most reliable woman in Duluth." I said, "I am the most reliable woman in this kitchen." He said, "Same thing." I do not think that is the same thing. I think that is a kindness Gerald gives me because Gerald is kind. I take the kindness. I do not argue. I lit a candle in the kitchen for no particular reason. Maybe for Mamma. Maybe for Pappa. Maybe for Lars. Maybe for Paul. Maybe for all of them. The candle is a tall white tapered one, set in a brass holder Mamma had on her dining room table for forty years. I let it burn down. The dripping wax made a small white pool on the brass. I cleaned it off. I lit another one the next night. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. I have learned, slowly, that there is a kind of competence that comes only with age. Not wisdom, exactly — wisdom is a word too grand for what I mean. Competence. The competence of having watched many things go wrong and many things go right and having developed an internal database of which is which. The competence is, perhaps, the only thing that improves with age in a body that is otherwise declining. I will take the trade. It is enough.

I made Mamma’s Köttbullar on Wednesday, and by Thursday the kitchen still smelled of browned butter and allspice — that particular smell that means she was here, even when she was not. When I cook beef the old way, low and slow with something bright cutting through the fat, it keeps the week from feeling entirely empty. This sweet and sour beef is not Mamma’s recipe, but it lives in the same spirit: one pan, honest ingredients, the kind of meal that sets a table worth sitting at, even when you are sitting alone.

Sweet and Sour Beef

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs beef sirloin or chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch, for coating
• 1 medium yellow onion, cut into wedges
• 1 red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 green bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 cup pineapple chunks (fresh or canned in juice, drained)
• 1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
• 1/3 cup ketchup
• 3 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tablespoons cold water (slurry)
• 1/2 cup beef broth or water
• Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

1. Season and coat the beef. Pat beef cubes dry with paper towels. Toss with salt, pepper, and 1 tablespoon cornstarch until evenly coated.
2. Brown the beef. Heat vegetable oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add beef in a single layer, working in batches if needed. Brown on all sides, about 3–4 minutes per batch. Transfer browned beef to a plate and set aside.
3. Soften the vegetables. In the same pan, reduce heat to medium. Add onion wedges and cook 2–3 minutes until beginning to soften. Add red and green bell peppers and cook another 2 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Make the sauce. Stir in vinegar, ketchup, brown sugar, soy sauce, and beef broth. Scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a gentle simmer.
5. Return the beef and finish. Add browned beef back to the pan. Stir in pineapple chunks. Simmer over medium-low heat for 12–15 minutes, until beef is cooked through and tender.
6. Thicken the sauce. Stir in the cornstarch slurry. Cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens and coats the back of a spoon.
7. Serve. Serve hot over steamed white rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 820mg