On feeling better about myself.

Every once in a while, after a long day of doing something new, I'll be called upon to pull out a skill I haven't used in years.

And I'll think to myself, "Damn, glad to see I've still got that, at least."

It's important to do things you're good at now and again to remind yourself that you don't suck.

Remember that. Because it's such a simple thing to forget.

Recipe break. Balls.

Meatballs.

I mean, really, I don't need to say much more than that, do I? My recipe is loosely based on Alton Brown's (and by loosely, I mean his ratios are what I roll with); I've found the man's proportions to be pretty solid. But again, meatballs are one of those things that was born of necessity - they were created to use up scraps of meat and to bulk them to feed a crowd. So really, anything goes.

That being said, this is how I usually do:

For every 1.5 lbs. of ground meat (be it beef, pork, veal, turkey, whatever), I use:
3 eggs
1/2 c. bread crumbs (I make my own, but you can use anything from panko to just pulverized leftover bread)
Some kind of milk (I've got half and half in my fridge for coffee at all times, so I use that)
~5 oz. spinach (cooked, drained, chopped. You'll note that that's half a box of frozen spinach, of course - I've used everything from Swiss chard to kale here, too. Just cook it and chop it fine) (And when I say drained, I mean wrap that shit up in a couple of layers of paper towel and actually squeeze the liquid out. Don't be lazy.)
1/2 c. grated hard Italian cheese (Parm, Romano, whatever the fuck)
Soy sauce and Worcestershire to taste
Pepper, dried herbs and spices (parsley, thyme, sage, oregano, red pepper, whatever)
Maybe like one small onion, chopped fine and sweated
However the fuck amount of garlic you want, also chopped fine and sweated

Really, the only tricky thing here is the panade, which is when you dump the bread crumbs into the big-ass bowl you'll be mixing everything in first, then add enough milk to make a thick paste. What happens here is the fats in the milk soak into the starches of the bread crumbs, trapping them within the starch molecules so that the tasty fatty mouth feel is distributed evenly throughout the balls rather than running all over the damn place when you cook 'em. Before you add anything else, let that sit until all the milkstuff is absorbed into the breadstuff.

Then add the eggs, and with your hand, moosh everything together until it's evenly mixed. Then dump everything else in and mix it with your hands until just incorporated. I say 'just incorporated' because the more you beat the shit out of the proteins in the meat, the more springy and tough they get. So try not to mash everything around any more than you really have to.

Here comes the fun part, the one that most home cooks pass up, hoping they can just skate on the recipe and everything will turn out great. Heat up a small pan with a dab of oil, pinch off a little of your meatball mix, and cook up a little test patty.

THEN FUCKING TASTE IT TO SEE IF IT'S GOOD OR NOT.

If it is, great. If not, add more shit to it and repeat the process until the test patty tastes like how you want your meatballs to taste. Jesus, you people and your not tasting shit as you make it. If you wait until the end, how will you know it's good?

Is your mix good? Awesome. It's time to portion them out. Now, since the mix is uniform in density (because you mixed it properly, right?), you can do this step by weight or by volume. Me, I use an old 1 fl. oz. ice cream scoop I inherited from my folks, so it's both utilitarian AND nostalgic. You, use whatever you want. Doesn't really matter on size so long as they're all the same. (Don't be an asshole and try to make 6 oz. meatballs. Or if you do, stuff them with something like rice or proscuitto so you don't have raw meat on the inside and burnt-ass shit on the out.) Portion them out onto a sheet tray lined with parchment first, then once you've got everything measured, go back and roll them into balls. Trust me, it's faster this way.

Here, you can try an optional step for funsies. Remember when I said working proteins makes them tough? I like to slap the balls between my hands a little before I roll them so the exterior gets tough and holds its shape in the oven. Again, totally optional.

Once everything's all portioned out and rolled, fire up your oven to 400 degrees and bake them until they're done. For my oven and my portion scoop, that means about 25 minutes until the balls are cooked all the way through. For you, that'll vary on how good your oven is and how big you made your balls. Figure it out. Cut one open after 20 minutes, see what's up.

And that's that. Seeing as how this is a somewhat involved process, I'd recommend making around 3 lbs. of meat's worth of balls at a batch, using what you need for dinner, then freezing the rest on sheet trays until frozen, then putting them in a labeled gallon-sized Ziploc for future use. That way, you can just simmer a few in sauce until they're hot or pop them in the microwave the next time you want meatballs.

And let me tell you - meatballs on demand is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Out.

(mic drop)

On scheduling issues.

So I got a promotion. Also, I've been making a point to hang out in the real world a little more often. And I've come to an unshakable conclusion.

I don't know how you fuckers do this.

I am wiped the fuck out right now. I've got a stage to set in a fictional world that people have been waiting for weeks for. I've got friendships on Facebook I need to review, Twitter followers I need to follow back. An ever-growing sea of BiSC blogs to read. Comments to look over and reply to.

One of my favorite bloggers is calling it quits, and I should have all the feels, but I haven't had the goddamn chance to read it yet. I'm out of socks. The garbage should probably get taken out. I need to cook off that kale before it gets all squidgy on me. I'm only three episodes deep on the new Arrested Development. I have a pot roast in the fridge, and I'm so tired I can't be bothered to heat it up. (I ordered a pizza.)

How in the flying fuck do you people actually DO shit? I can't even imagine what I'd do if I were actually seeing someone. The cats wouldn't get fed, and they'd eat my face in the night.

On tribes.

For a while, I was feeling a little lonely. After all, here in Philly, I was adrift of my primary tribe, that batch of maniacs from Rutgers I'm proud to call my friends. The majority of them still reside in NYC, and ever since I'd left, I've been missing them.

But time passes, and things change. And spending time with my oldest friend down the street and his marvelous girlfriend is opening conversations and doors. My street is rife with grillers and distillers with adorable children and a penchant for swinging by for backyard cocktails. And my coworkers are a beautiful mishmash of iconoclasts and misfits bound together in shared experience and coffee.

And there's you. Whether you're BiSCuits or just internetters, whether I want to or not, I'm a part of this, too. Like the creepy uncle hanging out in the corner at family reunions, I'm there.

Anyway. Long story short, I may be lonely from time to time, but I know full well that I'm never really alone.

So thank you.

All of you.

On Memorial Day Weekend.

Funny how a singular arbitrary holiday can change so much. It's Memorial Day Weekend here in the States, a long weekend marked by grilling and trips to the shore. The unofficial start of the summer, when everyone shakes off the winter drearies and spring rains and starts hitting the road. Calendars swell with events, from trips to the Hamptons to music festivals to outdoor weddings. We come alive.

Hot on the heels of BiSC, I decided to get out of the house more. This is a reasonably big deal for me; I'm a hermit, a creature of habit, and someone who really enjoys being alone in my home with video games and cats. Daylight and social activity aren't really my bag.

But there are people out there. People I shouldn't just communicate via text or Gchat with, people I should see face to face, hug, and listen to their actual voices.

I told myself that if I didn't have to work, I'd just travel. Visit my tribes, old and new, near and far, and eat my way through their cities. So maybe I'll stick my toe in the water and see how that goes for me.

Cheers, guys. I'll see you 'round. Here on the internet or face to face, I'll see you 'round.

On traveling.

So I just signed on to be in NYC twice in one week, both times for less than 24 hours. Does this mean Brooklyn's now just a daytrip for me?

I mean, I'm not really complaining. This is the price I pay for being more social. Or just less of a gigantic lazy ass.

On innocent mistakes.

So I gave my number to someone I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have given my number to.

Now I have to figure out how to tell a really sweet old gay guy that I'm not interested.

(sigh) I thought I got all this out of my system when I lived in NYC.