A meatball is a meatball is a meatball. It’s not really something that I would ever have imagined as being life changing, but I have eaten a truly superior meatball that… well… changed my life. It’s superiority over every other meatball that I had and have ever eaten, was evident after the first mouthful. The details are a little blurry (it was a while ago) but I do remember it had a finer texture than I usually associate with meatballs.
The chef (he was/is a chef) is someone I wont write about other than to say that he had a few amazing dishes in his repertoire and that this particular dish was not something that he regularly cooked during the course of his kitchen duties. I still consider myself very fortunate to have partaken in what is basically mince meat(?), with some stuff, rolled into a ball and cooked.
So I see a book entitled A Man & His Meatballs and I get it. I get the passion, the love, the compulsion… the meatball in all it’s glory and splendour. I understand why the author of this book, who as well as recounting his experiences as a novice chef and restaurateur, has included many fine recipes and has chosen to use the word meatball in the title. This book is intended for me and anyone else who has ever experienced the true delight of the perfect ball of meat. Mmmmmm.