Vegetarian Lentil and Mushroom Meatballs

Deep winter. Negative eighteen. Jason and I have developed a routine: on mutual days off, he comes to my apartment and I cook and we exist in the particular domestic quiet of two people who spend their professional lives in chaos and need their private lives to be still. He sits on my couch and reads while I cook. Sometimes he helps — chopping, stirring, the tasks that don't require Filipino culinary expertise, which he does not have and which I find endearing in a way that Lourdes finds concerning.

He tried to make adobo last week. In his own kitchen. Without me. He called halfway through: "The vinegar is bubbling. Is it supposed to bubble?" I said, "Yes. That's what vinegar does when it's hot." He said, "It smells really strong." I said, "That's what vinegar does when it's vinegar." His adobo turned out okay — too much soy, not enough garlic, the chicken slightly overcooked — but the fact that he tried, that he stood in his own kitchen and attempted my mother's recipe, moved me in a way I didn't expect. The trying was the love. The imperfect adobo was the gesture. I ate it without criticism. Love is eating imperfect adobo with a straight face.

I made bulalo this week — Filipino bone marrow soup. Beef shanks simmered for hours until the marrow melts into the broth and the meat falls off the bone and the liquid becomes rich, fatty, the kind of soup that coats your mouth and warms you from the inside out. It's a cold-weather soup, a deep-winter soup, the kind you make when the thermometer reads negative eighteen and the darkness is seventeen hours long and the only warmth available is the kind you cook yourself.

The bulalo simmered for four hours. The apartment filled with the smell of beef and bone and the particular richness of marrow, which is the essence of the animal, the inside-the-inside, the thing you have to crack open to get to. Dr. Reeves might say something about cracking open and getting to essences. I'd say: the marrow is the best part. You have to go through the bone to get there. Same with people. Same with recovery. Same with the relationship I'm building with a paramedic who makes terrible adobo and calls me when the vinegar bubbles.

We ate the bulalo together. The marrow was rich. The broth was clear. The night outside was dark and infinite and we were inside, warm, fed, together. Two healthcare workers eating bone marrow soup in the darkest month, in the coldest state, in the warmest room. That's the story. That's enough.

The bulalo fed us that night, and it will again — but for the weeks between, when I want that same slow-cooked, savory warmth without a four-hour simmer, I come back to these lentil and mushroom meatballs. There’s something in the way the mushrooms give up their depth under heat, the way lentils hold everything together without asking for much, that feels honest in the same way that soup made from bones does. Jason has already asked for these twice. He has not attempted to make them alone yet, which I consider an act of wisdom.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 16 meatballs)

Ingredients

1 cup green or brown lentils, rinsed
2 1/4 cups vegetable broth or water
8 oz cremini mushrooms, finely chopped
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
1/4 cup grated Parmesan or nutritional yeast
1 large egg (or 1 flax egg: 1 tablespoon ground flaxseed + 3 tablespoons water)
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Cook the lentils. Combine lentils and broth in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 20–22 minutes until tender and liquid is absorbed. Spread on a baking sheet and let cool 10 minutes. Preheat oven to 400°F and line a baking sheet with parchment.
Sauté the aromatics. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and cook 3–4 minutes until softened. Add mushrooms and cook 6–8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until all moisture has evaporated and mushrooms are deeply browned. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Combine the mixture. Transfer cooled lentils to a large bowl and roughly mash with a fork — you want about 75% mashed with some whole lentils remaining for texture. Add the mushroom mixture, breadcrumbs, Parmesan, egg, parsley, thyme, paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir until fully combined. The mixture should hold its shape when pressed; if too wet, add breadcrumbs one tablespoon at a time.
Form the meatballs. Using a heaping tablespoon or small cookie scoop, roll mixture into balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Place on the prepared baking sheet. Brush or drizzle with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil.
Bake. Bake at 400°F for 22–25 minutes, turning once at the halfway point, until meatballs are firm and golden brown on the outside. Serve over pasta with marinara, tucked into a sandwich, or alongside a simple green salad.

Nutrition (per serving, ~4 meatballs)

Vegetarian Lentil and Mushroom Meatballs — The Warmth You Cook Yourself