Fresh Market has a deal on hamburger meat. Every Tuesday, a patron can go into this fancy grocery store and buy skinless/boneless chicken and ground chuck at a price lower than Wal-Mart. Granted, if you go after about 11am, you are in line with a bunch of blue blood blue hairs, but if the meat is cheap and the quality is good- that is where I am. Sans the blue hair.
No word on the blue blood.
Tuesday, there I was- getting three pounds of hamburger meat. Our dinners of recent revolve around what I can make with either chicken or hamburger meat.
Husband said he was chickened out- hence the three pounds of hamburger meat.
We had hamburgers last night and I needed to do something with the rest of the meat.
I made a meatloaf. It's in the freezer- waiting to be eaten another day. Meatloaf, while it looks like brains, is not my strongest suit. My grandmother made a meatloaf and grated a potato instead of using bread crumbs (or was it eggs?). Her meatloaf was amazing. I never grew up eating meatloaf.
Probably because it's called meat...loaf.
I had a little less then a pound of meat left to monkey with. Why not have an adventure with meatballs?
How hard can meatballs be? Crackers, meat, spices, roll them up and fry those puppies.
I have learned that meatballs take more than crackers, meat, spices, and some oil.
They take the fire department knocking at my door with not one, but two trucks.
Let me back up... I rolled those puppies into perfect little meatloaf nugget balls. I tossed them in flour and put them in the fridge for about thirty minutes. Out of the fridge and back into the flour- I had my oil "white hot," as my grandfather would have said.
'White hot' is evidently too hot when it comes to making meatballs.
The "steam" started and Leenie grabbed a towel to wave around the den. She knew the drill. When Mama starts cooking, find the fan. We opened all of our new doors (more on those later) and even Husband said something about the smoke. I could not hear him over the popping and sizzling, nor could I really see him through the cloud.
Husband fanned one smoke alarm. Leenie fanned the air. Bennie and Fuzzy were sound asleep. I fried meatballs. All the doors opened in the house, sans the babies bedroom doors. Those were closed.
The sirens started off in the distance. The phones started ringing. The meatballs sizzled.
The neighbors started looking from behind their curtains out into the dark night as the thirty two wheels of two fire trucks turned onto Buggy Lane with half of the rubber in the air.
As I sat outside and waited for them to dismount, Husband thought he would snack on the thing that caused the chaos. Those little charred nuggets of meatloaf-e-ness-- those little things that turned into something huge. Yeah, those things? They were raw on the inside. When the grease is white hot, they burn the outside and leave the inside perfectly red.
Not something you want in a meatball.