On Grief and Comfort Food (or, my favorite meatballs)

Friends. It’s nice to be here again. I’ve missed this place. I took December as a bit of a Sabbatical from blogging and thinking about the coming year’s projects because of the move – I was just overwhelmed, frankly –  and then January held things I just couldn’t have expected.

We spent the first two weeks of December searching for and moving into a rental house in Memphis, then hosted family through the holidays. Just a few days after everyone left and we started thinking about establishing routines once again, my little brother, Lance, was killed in a car accident on icy roads in rural Michigan. He was on his way home from school.

It was the day after his eighteenth birthday.

This is the kind of thing that rocks you to the core, makes you question – well, everything. Relationships. Priorities. Purpose. The existence of a loving God. The certainty of heaven.

I’ve spent the past few weeks swimming in grief, feeling completely underwater, and clawing for the surface. Because grief is like an ocean, isn’t it? Like a turbulent sea with wild, crashing waves, the kind that pull you under and roll you over and over, until you are worn out and ready to give up. Until you are begging for relief. Until God pulls you out.

For the first 21 days after Lance died, I counted the days. The moment I awoke every morning, I thought, It’s Day 7. Or Day 13. Or whatever it was. I didn’t want to count the days, and yet I didn’t want to stop counting the days. Because if I stopped, I thought, it would mean I’d taken a step toward moving on, a step toward leaving Lance behind, in the past.  And I didn’t – I don’t – want to leave him behind. But I’m slowly learning that moving forward doesn’t mean I have to.

I’m not going to write any more about this now, in this post. It’s still too hard. But a few days ago, I woke up feeling like it was okay to stop counting the days. It was okay for the hours to stop being punctuated by waves of sorrow. It was okay to breathe again. The waters were calming, enough for me to make it to shore. The grief process is a lengthy one, I know, and it’s not over by any means. But I’ve taken the first few steps back toward a life that’s not shadowed every single minute by loss.

I’m blessed to have the kindest spiritual director and coach in my life right now, and we had a good, long chat about grief last week. She reminded me to do the things that are life-giving to me during this season – long walks, good books, time in God’s Word, cooking and knitting and writing a bit – and to eat well, too. Comfort food. Not junk food, but good food. Soup and homemade bread and spaghetti with homemade meatballs and sauce from scratch. You know, food that satisfies at the deepest level.

So here I am. With meatballs. These are my favorite meatballs, and I love having a batch of them in the freezer, ready to be added to a pot of spaghetti sauce or Italian Wedding Soup, or simply roasted in the oven and served with mashed potatoes and gravy. They’re unbelievably flavorful, with just a hint of a kick. L loves them, too, so they’re definitely kid-approved.

They’re even easier if you have a small cookie scoop. You just throw everything into a big bowl, mix it with your hands like meatloaf, and then form it into golfball-size spheres. You can freeze them in a plastic freezer bag or a freezer-safe container with a layer of waxed paper under the lid, whatever you prefer.

One batch of these makes roughly 44-48 meatballs. I consider this a double batch, and I usually use half right away and freeze the other half. Two dozen meatballs is just about right for a pot of soup or a pot of spaghetti sauce.

So – make these. You won’t be sorry.

Favorite Meatballs

1 lb. ground turkey

1 lb. ground Italian sausage (casings removed if necessary)

1 cup breadcrumbs (regular or gluten-free)

1 cup freshly grated Parmesan, Romano, or Asiago cheese

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper

1 large egg

1-2 tablespoons olive oil

Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl, and use your hands to mix thoroughly. Use a teaspoon or a small cookie scoop to portion out small amounts of the mixture, and roll them gently into balls between the palms of your hands.

To use in soup or spaghetti sauce: 15-20 minutes before serving, submerge in simmering soup or sauce. Test for doneness before serving.

To roast: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a sheet pan with parchment, and place the meatballs two inches apart on the parchment. Brush lightly with olive oil. Roast 30-40 minutes, until lightly browned and cooked through. Do not let them get overly crispy; you want them to be tender.

Serves 6.