European

When it comes to polenta, freshly milled corn makes all the difference. We are lucky enough to have Wild Hive Farm in Clinton Corners, New York, grind the polenta for the Shop (you can order it at www.wildhivefarm.com). Bob’s Red Mill is a great alternative that can be found in many supermarkets, health food stores, and online (www.bobsredmill.com). This recipe requires a slight investment of time, but the result is mind-blowingly good. Just make sure to whisk the mixture constantly until the polenta comes to a boil; otherwise it can easily burn. Polenta is incredible served alongside just about any kind of meatball, but it is classically served as a stand-alone dish. Try it with a ladleful of Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56) or Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57) on top.

We’ve revived this simple, classic French sauce with a combination of extra-virgin olive oil, tomatoes, fresh herbs, and some toasted pine nuts. It’s a summertime sauce that’s typically served with fish, but we like it with many of the meatballs, including Duck Balls (page 31) and Veal Meatballs (page 48). On a hot summer day meatballs can be dauntingly heavy, and a bright, fresh sauce can turn them into a suprisingly light lunch. Since chervil can be tricky to find, feel free to skip it if you can’t find it.

Now this is the stuff. Rich beyond your wildest dreams, this sauce is not for the faint of heart. We think of it as Alfredo sauce on steroids, and it’s worth every calorie! At the Shop it’s a must-order with Chicken Meatballs (page 12). There’s pretty much nothing a ladle of this creamy sauce can’t improve—stir it into sautéed spinach for instant Creamed Spinach (page 100), or spoon it over steamed cauliflower, top with Parmesan cheese, and bake in the oven for the perfect gratin.

Since everyone has his or her version of this sauce, we spent a lot of time getting this one right. No surprise, the best results came from using the best ingredients. When it comes to tomato sauce, using poor-quality canned tomatoes can leave an acidic or tinny taste in your mouth. So while it is a bit more expensive, we like to use Pomi brand chopped tomatoes (you know, the ones that come in the box). The sauce starts with a careful “sweating” of onions (cooking them slowly, until translucent but not brown, to extract as much flavor as possible), and the flavor continues to build from a nice, long, low-heat simmering after the tomatoes are added.

With its rich and subtle flavor, veal is one of the traditional meats used in Italian meatballs. Here we layer it with Parmesan cheese, oregano, and aromatic vegetables. At the Shop we use veal breast, which is inexpensive and has a relatively high fat content. It is a bit more work to butcher and grind, but it’s worth the exceptional outcome. Ask your butcher in advance to bone the breast and grind it for you. Serve with Sauce Vierge (page 65) and Braised Green Beans (page 101).

We hate to choose favorites—we love all our “children” equally—but this sauce is the one we go to again and again and again. It has the perfect amount of kick to it, but if you prefer it spicier, feel free to add more red pepper flakes. But please—this is a big tip coming—wait a minute or two after you’ve added the red pepper flakes before adding more. Give the peppers some time to hydrate and the spice to dissolve—a little chile goes a long way but takes time before it reaches its full potential. Of course we love this sauce over pasta and on a Smash (two balls on a brioche roll with sauce and cheese) too. Try tossing in a handful of arugula with the hot pasta and sauce and allowing it to wilt, adding a generous grating of parmesan cheese on top. Perfection!

C’mon, how could we not include this seventies’ entertaining classic? But fear not, these aren’t tired chafing-dish buffet standards; they are a delicious duo of beef and pork, along with a well-spiced mixture of allspice and mustard powder and a touch of heavy cream. While people may argue over authenticity, we’re not Swedish, but we know these are darn good. Serve them with our Mushroom Gravy (page 63), Mashed Potatoes (page 79), and a bit of lingonberry jam.

With just enough spice to tickle the tongue, these balls are the ultimate crowd-pleasers. Whenever we have a large event to cook for, we always bring our Spicy Pork Balls. In terms of the meat for these balls, ask your butcher to grind some pork shoulder. It’s inexpensive and full of flavor, and it’s a cut we really love. Instead of using bread crumbs, as we do with most meatballs, we use fresh white bread, which makes for a lighter meatball. The ideal way to serve these is over a bed of Creamy Polenta (page 78) with a hearty ladleful of Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57).

Here earthy ingredients from sunny Spain come together for a richly flavored meatball. A sharp Manchego sheep’s milk cheese and paprika-spiced chorizo sausage are mixed with ground pork and just a hint of red pepper flakes and garlic. When rolled into minis, these are a tapas treat. These balls stand up to the Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57) but go just as well with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

At the shop we think all holidays deserve their own meatball. In New York City, Saint Patrick’s Day is a big deal, celebrated with a major parade, and so of course a meatball was born. These are a clever twist on the usual corned beef and cabbage pairing, and they were so popular that now we serve them throughout the year. We’re not fans of artificial coloring but we suppose you could even dye them green if you wanted to. We love to serve them with Mashed Potatoes (page 79) and Mushroom Gravy (page 63).

When we think of sun-drenched Greece, we think of olives, feta cheese, preserved lemons, and oregano. These salty, tangy, and fragrant ingredients instantly transport us to the Mediterranean islands. These meatballs capture the essence of Greek flavors and roll it all up into a meatball. You can buy preserved lemons, but our quickie recipe below is a no-brainer. Serve with a big ladleful of Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

Here they are—the top sellers at the Shop and sure to be a big hit at home. Most traditional meatball recipes call for Parmesan or pecorino cheese. While we’re big fans of these stronger cheeses, we prefer ricotta. It’s our secret weapon. The mild and creamy consistency of this fresh cheese gives the meatballs a unique, light texture. Beef has a subtle flavor, and the ricotta is a great way to add fat and moisture to the recipe without the overpowering flavor of a sharper cheese. These are quick to prep, and baking rather than frying makes this a fast comfort food even during the busiest of weeks.

Portugal lies on the Iberian Peninsula between the Atlantic Ocean and Spain, and many of its culinary inspirations pull from both those places. In the province of Alentejo in southern Portugal, a combination of pork and clams expresses the inherent poetry of this duality. Ruddy with paprika, fragrant with garlic, and redolent of salt air, it is an exotic, compelling dish in which land meets sea in a bowl. The Portuguese are so fond of it that it is exported with them anywhere they settle, including New Bedford, Massachusetts, where it is served with corn on the cob. The dish is traditionally made with pork meat, cubed, spiced, and marinated overnight. I have simplified the recipe by using chorizo for the pork. It provides the same spiciness and color while eliminating a lengthy step.

Paella is one of the great composed rice dishes of the world. Many regions in Spain boast of serving the “finest” rendition, but Valencia, its original home, claims the blue ribbon. Many tourist guides acquiesce. Located close by the sea, the city provides its cooks with a daily supply of fresh seafood. Squid, which blackens the rice with its ink, and mussels are abundant and have become key elements in paella valenciana, along with snails and green beans. That repertoire has been expanded to include a selection of chicken or rabbit pieces; small sausages; other shellfish, such as shrimp, crayfish, or cockles; and other vegetables, such as red bell pepper or artichoke, though not all at once. I like to use shrimp in the shell, but if you don’t think your guests will want to peel their own shrimp, you can cook them as directed, then peel them before returning them to the pan. Paella is traditionally cooked over a charcoal fire in a large, wide, two-handled shallow pan called a paellera. As is common in many Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures in which dishes, such as shish kebab and gyros, are cooked over an open fire, the paella cooks are traditionally men because the men own fire. Nowadays, the paellera is more often used indoors, and women as well as men cook the dish. It is always a festive offering, worthy of a get-together of any size, indoors or out. No matter who is cooking, the key to a successful paella is the rice. It must be Spanish or Italian short grain.

I adore pearl barley, yet seldom remember to cook it. But at least once a year, in late spring leaning toward summer, when the weather is still chilly, I suddenly have a notion to make Scotch broth. It is essentially a homespun celebration of root vegetables bolstered by and enriched with lamb. The usual vegetable selection includes leeks, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, kohlrabies, and parsnips. Hamburg parsley, which is grown for its root rather than its leaves and is popular in northern European cooking, is also a good addition, adding herbal appeal. Unfortunately, it is so far not widely available in U.S. markets, but a garnish of fresh parsley nicely fills the herbal niche. Lamb neck and bone-in shoulder chops, the customary cuts for Scotch broth, create a meat broth as the soup cooks. Here, I turn the lamb into sausage and use a quick and convenient-to-make vegetable broth. That way the meat is thriftily stretched while still providing its depth of flavor to the soup. I add a tablespoon of tomato paste for color and a hint of acid: perhaps a shocking sidestep to staunch traditionalists, but I think the soup appreciates it.

Shepherd’s pie is a signature dish in the pubs of England and Ireland, sometimes made with lamb, as here, and sometimes with beef, in which case it is called cottage pie. The idea is the same: a simple meat pie made with a mirepoix—onion, carrot, celery—under a top crust of mashed potatoes. There’s no cheese in the mashed potatoes, but when the pie is baked, the crust is somehow enriched through the alchemy of cooking and tastes as though there were. Shepherd’s pie is usually made with leftover cooked lamb. Swapping that for quick and easy homemade lamb sausage is my revisionism, to give the humble pie a fresh and lively taste. Also, to gussy it up, I use tiny pearl onions so the onion element has a more defined presence in the pie. The horseradish is also my whim, to give the dish an acrid lilt that helps lift it above what might otherwise be humdrum fare. Fresh horseradish root is often available in produce stores and supermarkets around Passover for Jewish customers; wasabi root, though not exactly the same botanically, is similar and it is available around the New Year for Japanese customers. Like fresh ginger, horseradish root can be stored in the refrigerator almost indefinitely, as long as it is kept dry.

The highland sheep of Scotland and Ireland graze in rugged terrain with sparse vegetation. Fittingly, the seasoning for a lamb sausage one might find in those northern isles is somewhat understated. A few well-chosen aromatics, along with salt and pepper, suffice to make a tasty sausage that evokes that landscape and its restrained fare.

Nowadays, dolmas are standard fare throughout the eastern Mediterranean and Caucasus. But it is interesting to ponder how they became so in ancient lands that never had New World ingredients until seafarers carried them to the Old World on their return journeys. To complicate the story, they put ashore in Atlantic ports, so it was still a long trek to get to the eastern Mediterranean. Nonetheless, they did, once again demonstrating the scope and power of food as a pathway of global interconnections. Adding a bed of potatoes as infrastructure in this dolma is a particularly Greek touch, and a good one. The potatoes soak up the juices rendered as the vegetables cook and collapse into them, making a crude sauce on the bottom of the dish. I prefer green bell peppers, but it seems these days red bells are equally, if not more, favored, so I make a mix of them, including some yellow and orange ones that add sunny color to the array.

By curious circumstance, I found myself in Vienna in 1968, shortly after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia and just over a decade after the Soviet invasion of Hungary. I was there for the International Philosophical Congress, which didn’t hold my interest long. There was much more to see and experience outside the confines of academia. Aside from the eternal beauty of Vienna as a center for music, the fine arts, and fine pastries, the streets were filled with people—Czechs as well as Hungarians—who had taken refuge in the welcoming city following the invasion of their countries. The energizing buzz over the politics of the time was everywhere, expressed in Czech, Russian, Hungarian Magyar (a language unrelated to nearly all other European languages and incomprehensible to ears unfamiliar with it), and in other tongues as well. But, as always, the food served as a binding, cohesive force. The city’s dining establishments, casual bistros and more formal restaurants alike, were filled with east Europeans, Viennese locals, and tourists like me, all looking for something good to eat. In addition to the impossible-to-resist Viennese fare, there were many Hungarian dishes which had become a familiar part of Viennese cooking. That is when and where I discovered the essential tastes and food combinations of east European cuisine, and, more important, that no matter what, food of the homeland is never left behind.

Partially cooking the potato and chilling it before grating serves two purposes: the potato gets thoroughly cooked within the sausage mix, which it won’t if it is added raw, and the sausage doesn’t turn out soft and mushy, which it will if the potato is cooked and mashed first. I prefer to get a jump start on this dish by preparing the potato a day ahead and chilling it overnight. But if you’re in a rush, several hours will do the trick, in which case, use the freezer to hasten the chilling. Rather than the standard Swedish accompaniment of mashed potatoes, I serve the sausage with a side of colorful, almost candylike roasted beets topped with sour cream.