momma's kitchen
the great meatball competition
by Camille Di Loreto

Healthy competition can foster new heights of awareness, and an intense sense of achievement when goals are surpassed. Typically, there is competition in the areas of sports, academics, and of course, in business. Growing up in my Italian family however, competition was taken to new heights -- to the great meatball competition.

My Mom was a fierce competitor when it came to her meatballs. No one could surpass her and live to tell about it. The strange aspect of this entire situation was, the other contenders for the meatball competition. They were not even aware they had entered the race. Generally, Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons were reserved for visiting. This meant we either were having relatives at our house or visiting relatives at theirs.

The food element of these visits was determined in a very specific way -- distancet. The farther one traveled determined if a large meal was involved. For example, if visiting relatives traveled a short distance, that is a car ride of approximately 30 minutes or so, most likely there was a small meal. This meant cake and coffee was sufficient. However, if the car ride involved an hour or more, or if the travelers were coming from another state and paying a bridge toll on the way, then a big meal was always involved. In any event the meal was always the main event.

The intricacies of these events became more involved if the visitation fell on a holiday, such as Christmas, Easter or the Feast of St. Joseph. On such monumental occasions you could expect to feast on such dishes as antipasto for starters, insalata, ravioli or spaghetti and meatballs and much more.

"Once we departed from our host's home the competition began, with my Mother the critical judge"

The meatball competition generally would occur just after a long trip to the home of a relative. Once we departed from our host's home the competition began, with my Mother the critical judge. The rest of us were merely spectators in this event. My father was often dragged into this event, simply because he was there.

The judging would take place in the confines of our Ford Fairlane. A car spacious enough to hold the entire family, which consisted of my mother, father, sister, aunt, uncle and at least one of my grandparents. As you can guess there was no place to hide. The stage was set and the drama generally unfolded once we were all seated comfortably in the car. Mom would make the sign of the cross for a safe journey home and the questioning would begin."

How did we like the meatballs? Didn't you think they were a little dry? A little too hard? Not enough flavor, I think. Too salty maybe? Not about to be put off by silence, she would continue, " Aunt Rose makes the worst meatballs. They are always as big as tennis balls.". Suddenly, mom brought dad into the competition by asking him how he liked the meatballs --poor Dad, he really did not wish to be a part of this. My father knew enough not to disagree since he was the one sleeping with the judge. " Oh, those meatballs were too hard. You could throw them against the wall and they'd bounce like a ball." This was my Fathers standard response when describing any other meatball except Mother's.

One Thursday evening, when Mom was making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, I climbed up to the counter to assist her. I was very young at the time when this event took place. Therefore, given the intense meatball competition environment I grew up in, I could not be held responsible for any unusual behavior. The meatballs were placed on a sheet of paper towels to absorb any excess oil. I could have sworn I heard a voice saying, "Take the meatballs and see if they will bounce". The phone rang. Mom left the immediate area to answer the phone. I looked left, then right, to see if I was alone, and sure enough I was. So... I went for it. As soon as the meatballs hit the floor she came running in eyes opened wide. Then a look of extreme anger came over her face. Her mouth opened and I heard an ungodly scream.

I could hardly believe it, the meatballs didn't bounce. I considered this a good thing. These were not like the tennis balls I had heard so much about. These meatballs stayed right where I threw them, on the floor. Thank goodness I did not try to hit the wall.

If you have any kitchen memories to share, please contact me at camille@virtualitalia.zzn.com.

Momma's Meatball Recipe
1 lb. chopped meat - a equal mix of veal, beef and pork
approximately 1/2 cup of flavored italian bread crumbs
at least 1/4 - 1/2 cup of grated romano cheese
4 gloves of chopped garlic (the more garlic the better)
2 tablespoons of fresh chopped parsley
1 egg
fresh grated black pepper - to taste
olive oil

In a large bowl, place all the above ingredients and blend well. Prepare meatballs about the size of a rather large golf ball.

Coat a large baking pan with olive oil. Place meatballs in shallow pan and bake at 350. Mom fried her meatballs. I prefer to bake them. It is quicker and uses less less fat. Turn meatballs occasionally till cooked. approximately 15-25 minutes.