The family moving in next door had a daughter my age. Her name was Darla Larson, and seeing the Barbie Dream House coming off the moving truck, I knew we'd be best friends. Standing in the driveway, my mother and Mrs. Larson made friendly small talk. My father and Mr. Larson, however, took an instant dislike to one another, a dislike that only deepened as the women sought to bring the two families together.
According to Daddy, these were Mr. Larson sins: He didn't have a dog; he had a Standard Schnauzer. He didn't have a piano; he had a Steinway. His knee was (supposedly, dubiously) permanently damaged from a "lacrosse injury at Northwestern." He rooted for the Minnesota Vikings when everyone knew the Miami Dolphins, coached by Don Shula, were the best football team America has ever known. Worst of all, when the Larsons invited our family over for dinner, he grilled hot dogs.
He told my mother, "I may be a redneck without a college sweatshirt to mow the lawn in, but I know you don't serve goddam hot dogs to company!"
When it was our turn to reciprocate, Mama was flustered. My parents believed in feeding company the best you had, and lots of it, but these were fancy folks, and our country best might not measure up. Using a recipe she got from a church newsletter, my mother made hors d'oeuvres -- an olive cheese spread (though she hated olives, thought they were a peculiar preference of the upper class) and mini-meatballs simmered in a sauce of grape jelly and ketchup. My father accused her of putting on airs. He had his own idea of how to please the Gods of Southern Hospitality and stick it to Oscar Mayer Larson – steaks and shrimp.
You should have seen Daddy that night, the grin on his face as he delivered steaks to each plate, Flintstone steaks so large the edges flopped over onto the table, and a trawl-sized bowl of shrimp cocktail. "Y'all eat up!" he urged magnanimously. By then, he was truly feeling magnanimous. He has always loved watching people eat freely, a reminder, perhaps, that his hungry childhood – meatless suppers of fried cornmeal and grease-water gravy – is in the past.
While my mother and Mrs. Larson washed dishes, and Darla and I played Crazy Eights, Daddy grabbed two beers from the fridge, handed one to Mr. Larson, and said, "Let's go sit down by the lake."
"Well, it's not really a lake, now is it?" Mr. Larson said with a wry grimace.
"What do you mean?" my father asked.
"I mean, it's more of a retention pond or a mud puddle!" He chuckled knowingly.
My father's hospitable smile squared off at the corners and I knew his temper was about to set fire to his manners. Daddy was proud of our four bedroom brick ranch on the lake, in a subdivision that billed itself as a "lakefront community," on Lakeside Drive. It was the nicest house anyone in his red dirt family had ever owned. He was proud of all he'd done to get us here. Because he could still feel the shame of church-box clothes, the cardboard patches in his shoes, the pang of an empty belly, the stain of Alabama clay, he couldn't let it pass, and I knew Darla's Steinway, Standard Schnauzer, Barbie Dream House and in-ground pool would soon be a fond memory when Daddy said, with icy finality, "Round here, if it's got fish in it, we call it a goddam lake."
A short while later the Larsons moved to a larger home on what was indisputably the Gulf of Mexico, and it was years before I remembered the tension between Daddy and Mr. Larson and probed the reason behind it. For the longest time, my recollections of that evening were only the hors d'oeuvres, the word itself opening a door to the country club of food -- fancy olives and saucy meatballs on darling little toothpicks.
I've recreated those meatballs without the meat, and fancied up the sauce, though not to the point of pretension. I'd never do that, like I'd never serve hot dogs to company, or brag about my college degree (which my parents celebrated as they might a lottery win).
This recipe reminds me of how food and class are intertwined in ways that are unproductive, nonsensical and ever changing. And I think – maybe now, when a red dirt granddaughter chooses meatless suppers, happily plays a pawn shop guitar, prefers her Standard Mutts and thinks church-box clothes are treasures, we might at last put it all behind us.
Vegetarian "Meatballs" in Sweet Chili Sauce
For the best flavor, I strongly suggest you that you make the meatballs and sauce at least a day before you serve them, to give the garlic and fennel a chance to bloom. While you're welcome to eat them as hors d'oeuvres (on frilly toothpicks!), we prefer them on buttered, toasted slider buns or hoagie rolls, heavily sauced, topped with homemade coleslaw and served with fresh sweet potato chips.
The "meat"balls:
1 and ½ tsp fennel seeds
1 cup pecans or walnuts
1 large or 2 smaller garlic cloves
½ cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped smoked sun-dried tomatoes or regular sun dried tomatoes
2 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley
1 medium zucchini, grated and squeezed dry (about a cup of pulp)
1 egg
½ tsp kosher salt
½ tsp ground pepper
2 slices white or wheat bread
1/4 - ½ cup flour
1 cup peanut oil (for frying)
In a food processor, whir the fennel seeds until they are broken up. Add the pecans, garlic cloves, onions, smoked sun dried tomatoes and parsley and process until everything is coarsely ground. Add the grated zucchini and pulse to combine. Spoon that mixture into a bowl. Put the two slices of bread into the food processor and process into crumbs. Set the bread crumbs aside. To the pecan mixture, add the egg, salt and pepper and sprinkle in the breadcrumbs. Add flour, a little at a time, until the mixture is firm enough to mold into balls. You may not need all of the flour. Use a rounded tablespoon for the sandwich-size meatballs, and a rounded teaspoon for minis. Makes about 15 sandwich-size meatballs, or 24 hors d'oeuvres size meatballs.
Heat the oil in a large skillet. Fry over medium-high heat, on all sides, until they are quite brown. (It's important to make sure they are brown on ALL sides to create a crust that protects the tender interior. Otherwise they might break apart when you add them into the sauce.) Remove the meatballs from the oil and allow to drain on a plate lined with paper towels.
The sauce:
1 cup Guinness or other stout beer
1 cup apricot preserves
1 cup ketchup
½ - 1 tsp Vietnamese chili garlic sauce, to taste
A pinch of Kosher salt
In a heavy saucepan, heat the Guinness and the apricot preserves. Cook on medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture has reduced by 1/4. Add the ketchup, Vietnamese chili garlic sauce and heat through. Add salt to taste. Reduce heat to a low simmer and add in the meatballs. Let the meatballs simmer in the sauce – stirring gently – every couple of minutes, for about 15 minutes, until the sauce is glossy. At this point you can refrigerate to let everything meld and then reheat before serving.
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Comments
BTW, I could see George Plimpton in your description of Mr. Larson. The Paper Neighbor?
PS Those meatballs were at my wedding reception at my father's request. Since he was paying for it, he would accept nothing else.
Love the story and recipe. Never had it though dear.
I always love the stories in your posts....
I salute you this morning with red chili sauce.
Rated with hugs
Greenheron -- He was insufferable, but interesting too. Very different from my own parents so I found the whole family fascinating.
Linnn -- Don't you hate food cops? I admit to being a bit of one with my husband (for health reasons) but I don't try it with anyone else. Those grape jelly meatballs are a classic!
Lucy -- I know you know red dirt! There's a pride in it now, but back then, a lot of shame.
Ann -- I bet you've prepared your fair share of those meatballs! (Hey you aren't supposed to be reading.)
Mission -- Ain't nothing wrong with having red clay in your blood.
Deborah -- It does seem silly to intertwine food and class. Food either tastes good or it doesn't. It should be that simple.
Dirndl -- I love my red dirt dad too! He's still rather proud and can't stand pretentious people, and he still serves everyone way too much food. If at the end of a meal there isn't enough food left on the table for everyone to eat all over again, he worries that people didn't get enough.
Linda -- Salute to you too! (We're having them again for lunch.)
As for the recipe, I am intrigued. I bought beef last night and was totally planning to cook it till the boyfriend stepped in, so that might be all the culinary adventurousness I have in me this week, but sometime soon I might just try your meatless meatballs!
♥R
B) I just love the way you speak of your dad and the times he endured to get to the point of providing that home on the lake for your family. i had forgotten the exotic allure of the hors d'oeuvre, but you brought it all back.
great writing, thanks!
As an aside, Northwestern has had a very strong women's lacrosse program for years.
I get such a tickle when I see how some people react to other people. How they want to put them in a pecking order, and for sure they want to be above whoever it is. Mostly people need to understand that they will always be someone better off, or worse off. Be kind, and your life will be better, be generous as you can, share if you can. I think that the biggest lift a person can have is to feel that they have enough to be able to share it with others.
R
Wouldn't that be nice? Unfortunately, living as I do in the tang of the buckle of the Bible Belt, in the whitest part of America save for church on Sunday morning, in an America where "legitimate" candidates for the Presidency claim the current President is a Kenyan Mau-Mauist -- and a Maoist, in an America where speaking with a Southern drawl is still considered a mark of ignorance (and too often is), in an America where $6000 shower curtains and $2 million dollar birthday bashes are considered signs of success -- while other Americans don't even have hot dogs to eat or fuel to heat their uninsulated homes -- I'm afraid that time is still a long way off.
Thanks for the recipe! I've not made 'meatballs' since I quit meat all those years ago, I look forward to trying these...
It makes me want to rant on some class stuff. Like how a lot of haute cuisine has peasant beginnings anyways but I won't because this made me hungry. Off to raid the cupboard ...
the recipe is intriguing - Vietnamese chili sauce is yummy stuff. that other, the grape jelly and catsup, sounds like it might taste OK on dog food.
What a fine sentence this is, "My father's hospitable smile squared off at the corners and I knew his temper was about to set fire to his manners".
::doffs hat:: (yet again)
I'll probably just drink the Guinness, and though I am sure they are delicious the way you make them I am rather partial to meat
What a prick Mr. Larson was. If someone hands you a beer and wants to go sit with you and drink it, you don't question his choices in naming bodies of water. You say "thank you, that would be nice."
Your dad sounds like a generous man; I'm glad you appreciate him and all he accomplished.
Leepin -- Ha! My dad wouldn't have been able to do that, however much Mr. Larson deserved it.
Alysa -- I know you're still getting your cooking legs (or aprons?). No need to go out on a limb so soon. But I do find that vegetables aren't as finicky as meats when it comes to cooking. I mean, it's really hard to make a carrot inedible. Not so with ground beef!
Fusun -- That's one of the reasons I love your posts. A glimpse into an exotic world! Or it seems exotic to me.
Lamm -- I think every neighborhood had one or has one. Our current "one" is three doors down!! He doesn't get my left over fried green tomatoes!
Diananni -- My parents would dress up and go out on the weekends and bring back cocktail umbrellas and tales of finger-foods! La-tee-da! That was the height of sophistication in my eyes.
Owl -- Thanks! I always appreciate seeing your comment in the feed (even if you don't post nearly as often as your talent would indicate).
Sarah -- Glad you liked it. My family wasn't always charming. Lots of chips on lots of shoulders. I'm a generation away from that. A place their sacrifices put me.
Stim -- If I open a restaurant "Pretentious Dick" will be a sandwich on the menu!!! I did use the one cup of Guinness for the recipe and drink the rest. What else would you do with it?
Maria -- You're so sweet. I'm working on it! On Foodie Tuesday I do find that I snack more than I do on any other day.
Sheila -- I'm always bemused by my parents' reaction to perceived "slights" -- because I was raised in a much more comfortable environment, I don't see what they see. But knowing their past, I know WHY they see what they see.
Tom -- I wish you were wrong. You ain't wrong.
Clay -- Your encouragement means a lot! More than you know.
JustThinking -- I gave up meatballs too, and I've only just begun to experiment with adding them back a'la vegetarian. I've seen some recipes that use all sorts of veggies.
Scarlett -- Last Sunday we ate at the bowling alley when we attended a niece's birthday party -- soft pretzels with nacho "cheese" and mustard. It was delicious!! I hate to think that snobs would miss out on that.
Linda -- There is more to the story with that family. A screenplay might be in order!
Lisa -- What a great compliment! I did stutter as a child, so maybe I could give Truman's lisp a run for its money.
Design -- I have to add that we use far more chili sauce than I called for the recipe. I was afraid we'd make people choke on the heat that Mr. Vance prefers!
Sparking -- It is yum. I think you could drench a shoe in that sauce and it would be good.
Femme -- Oh I have some stories about trying to impress (and having it backfire) but those are so embarrassing I'm not willing to face them yet. The Grape Jelly Sauce is ubiquitous. I can't believe you haven't encountered it? I don't like the grape so much, but it's an excellent point from which to riff -- like a jazz musician!
Gabby -- People DO like it. It's damn tasty. That's why its been a staple at every potluck for the past 20 years.
I loved your story. Your dad reminds me of my own. Southern red dirt upbringing that he educated and worked his way out of, but I never once saw him put on airs, and he would never stand for any of us to do it, either. We had a neighbor move in who constantly flaunted all that he had and drove everyone else crazy. That's just not how we did things down here in good old SC.
What do we have here? Personal reminisence, deftly done.
A family portrait, with all its tensions and -- in this case -- delicious comeuppance.
A portrait of your dad -- what a guy! And what details -- grease-water gravy!
A touching wish for something better. I've never in my life read a "recipe" that provides a class analysis of its subjects.
Throughout, smiles and knowing nods and open laughter. The only thing missing: how you combine grape jelly and ketchup into something edible.
I think I've mentioned it before, and know Maria has -- get these recipes between covers. MFK Fisher's gone nothing on you.
Your story is the very definition of evocative, not only because I remembered my mother's culinary hits (and misses) but because it brings up an entire time and place. And then, you bring me right back with this gorgeous line: "I knew his temper was about to set fire to his manners."
Yes, my mother was married to someone like that...
rated~
You're a pretty classy gal, you know?
Vanessa -- When you think of what's in meatballs (a lot of filler), I think it lends itself to meatless. Prime rib! or Filet Mignon! You can't vegetarian you way out of those -- but meatballs -- yes you can!
Kh3333 -- Exactly!!!
Joan -- I'm always happy to see you in the comment box. You make me smile. :)
Lilly's -- I do know the same recipe but with cocktail wienies! My mom was so funny when she was trying to be fancy. She hates olives. Hates just about every cheese except cheddar. Hates mushrooms, but felt obligated to trot those ingredients out for people she thought were far more sophisticated than she.
Lisa -- I think everything tastes better on a stick. Kind of like "stripper food" ...on a pole. Or maybe not.
Haley -- Thanks!
Older -- It's best if neighbors find a way to get along. We get along with ours, even if our viewpoints aren't the same.
Sophieh -- Yes the fennel! Ah...the fennel. It's crucial.
Blue -- Tofu? What's to understand?? Ha!
Molly -- That's one of my favorite songs. When I volunteered at the shelter, whenever we had a blue-tick hound I named him "Gideon."
Franish -- An aging treasure. But those are the best kind.
Tart&Soul -- The recipe calls for a cup of the Guinness, which means you get to drink the rest.
Cedar -- All these years later, and after all of his accomplishments, he still feels the sting of poverty, of being "not good enough." I don't know if you can ever wash that off, and I think seeing me and my family enjoy life -- from the position he's allowed us -- is his one true joy.
Jeremiah -- Your encouraging words mean so much. More than you know! I'm working on getting a book-length memoir piece together -- it's nice to know maybe one or two folks would be interested in reading it! (I had thought about including the original recipe in this post ...it was tasty, even if it's something I wouldn't eat now...not because of the grape jelly, just the meat.)
Trilogy -- I always lost posts with recipes, so I like to include one.
Nikki -- My dad has mellowed with age. He was so wound up back then, but time, experience and (sadly) tragedy has worn him down. I love the New Dad, but I also miss the fire of the former.
Bobbot -- Around our street, any food shared is a good meal and no one would turn up their nose at hot dogs! Especially after a hurricane power-outage when we're all cleaning out our thawing freezers and throwing an impromptu buffet on the street.
Susie -- Let me know if you try it. I usually make a double batch of the meatballs and then freeze them.
Felicia -- We are addicted to Vietnamese Garlic Chili Sauce. It's the new ketchup!
Christine -- I'm glad you enjoyed it!
littlewillie -- I guess you aren't an Auburn fan??
Pilgrim -- We experienced that forest fire many a time! I'm definitely a gal...classy is a maybe, or a sometimes.
Mumble -- I KNOW you like meatballs. These might not measure up to your memories, but they are a good alternative if you aren't into the fleshy variety. If you don't have a food processor, how do you make hummus? or baba ganoush? or scones? or....
I won't pretend that I make much more than toast nowadays but I'd bet that the recipes would make something delicious. Your father sounds as fun as you. Sorry it took me so long to get this big old treat of a post.
hugs -- My dad is quite a character. Glad you enjoyed the piece.
Sally -- Gulp! That's some pressure! But I appreciate the compliment more than you know. My advice to aspiring writers would be to read read read read read. With every new author you gain new insights into style (in general) and to your own style when you assess your preferences for language and cadence against those of another writer's.
Laure -- I imagine the recipe with currant jelly is much better than the grape jelly version! It would be interesting to trace the evolution of some of these recipes via ingredients as they moved across the country with people substituting the ingredients that were available to them. As for me, I've never met a sweet/spicy/tangy sauce I didn't love. My current obsession is tart cherry preserves + Thai fish sauce + the fiery Vietnamese chili garlic sauce we eat like ketchup.