[As published in March/April BayBuzz magazine.]
They’re everywhere. A global success story to rival Taylor Swift’s. Where animals are eaten, meatballs are made. For, along with sausages, meatballs take care of ‘the bits’ of the animal and frequently surpass the prime cuts in all-round deliciousness. When well-made these spheres of unctuous umami are a delight.
From Spain’s Albondigas, via Dutch Bitterballen and Germany’s Fleischkloß to the Tsukune of Japan, meatballs are much more than an afterthought. They are a vehicle for adding flavour and texture to meat. Adding a level of excitement to the dining experience that a bowl of cooked mince cannot match.
Who could resist a ball of minced pork, liver and heart wrapped in caul fat and roasted? This is a fond childhood memory. We devoured the ffagadau or faggots with more gusto than the ingredients would indicate appropriate. One of Wales’ more memorable contributions to international cuisine was purchased six to a foil tray already cooked in a tasty gravy. Popped into the oven whilst potatoes, carrots and peas were cooked and hey presto! Tuesday’s dinner was ready. Or was it Wednesday? Either way, ffagadau was a midweek dinner. Weekend dinners were all about mother’s foray into foreign food such as Moussaka, curry, Spaghetti Bolognese but never anything with liver at the weekend.
During a trip to Barcelona I enjoyed albondigas. Not dissimilar to ffagadau, in a delicious gravy including peas. Not what I expected. Both of these versions of the meatball steeped in a similar history I guess. Both being the delectable answers to the same question, asked by a peasant with armfulls of caul and heart: “What shall we do with these bits?”
Pre-mincers, the meat was pounded in a pestle and mortar. The redness of the meat is referenced in the word rissole. The texture of the meat, pulped, gives the Italian term polpette for meatball. Once pounded, chopped or minced then the magic begins.
Additions of herbs and spices, onions and garlic, breadcrumbs and milk build flavour and texture.
Breadcrumbs soaked in milk is a panade. The lactic acid helps tenderise the meat and the bread binds the balls while adding a soft texture. Soak 100g of breadcrumbs or stale bread in as much milk as they’ll absorb per 1kg of meat. Mix with your hands to evenly distribute. Add seasonings and eggs if required. Pork mince is sticky so may not need eggs to bind. I always cook one ball to test flavour and texture and bindability and then adjust if required.
Meatballs are indisputably a comfort food and simultaneously can be a higher level gourmet delight. Not always though…
The local speciality, which, according to the Mayor of Hastings, the town is famous for, is an enigmatic gooey ball of meat-adjacent product.
I don’t like it. I can’t understand why anyone or any town would lay claim to the bland, pasty little pill. I’m told by my son, who likes them, that you can’t get them in Christchurch. That’s one extra point to Christchurch!
An old friend, chef, raconteur, described the eating experience as sucking on tepid mutton fat as it congeals on the roof of your mouth. But it’s more wallpaper paste than mutton fat I suggest.
Genetically descended from the Bitterballan of old Amsterdam. Called a meatball but it is truthfully a croquet. Beef gravy thickened with a roux. There is not enough meat in the ball to warrant the name or trouble a vegan. It’s a deep-fried austerity sphere with a nice crunchy exterior.
The born-and-bred locals, including my son, love them in the same way I love the faggots of my youth. Everyone has their own balls of nostalgia I guess. I am happy to be persuaded otherwise but for now the pie shop ‘meatball’ gets a no from me.
Ian Thomas is a caterer and formerly free range egg farmer, cooking demonstrator, and manager of a commercial food production business. He specialises in cooking paella. paellaagogo.com
Shepherd’s Ball
Recipe by Ian Thomas
My speciality is the Shepherd’s Ball. A ball of my own creation. A ball that speaks to, and of, the backblocks of New Zealand in a way that few balls do. It’s the Fred Dagg and Barry Crump of meatballs.
This isn’t a knock-it-together Wednesday night tea. Planning and patience are required. It’s an opus in three acts.
Begin by slow roasting a leg or a shoulder of lamb until the meat falls off the bone. About 140 degrees oven temperature does the trick.
Boil some agria potatoes until soft but not water-logged. Don’t cut the spuds up too small or they’ll be wet and mushy and won’t bind the ball. Use roughly equal weights of lamb and potatoes.
Once the meat and potatoes are cooled enough to handle, shred the meat and mash the potatoes. Do not add milk or butter to the potatoes. They must be dry.
Combine the meat and the potatoes.
Add some finely chopped carrots and frozen peas (use fresh if you can’t find frozen)
Add 300g grated tasty cheese and 1 triangle of blue cheese
Add mixed herbs, 2 cloves of crushed garlic and ground black pepper
Add 6 eggs
Salt to taste
Roll the mixture into balls and bake at 160 degrees for about 25 minutes. Make one to test consistency and flavour and adjust as required.
Make the balls small for canapes or larger for dinner. Serve with a good gravy or a spicy plum sauce.
