The Secret to Classic Italian Meatballs (Polpette al Sugo)

And being "poly-geographical"

While the harsh winters of Upstate New York make people crave warmer climates, I was in search of the warmth and comfort of my Connecticut home state this winter.

When my mother told her friends that I was “moving in” with my husband, two children, and our cat, they rolled their eyes in sympathy. My stepdad was in denial until I handed him the cat carrier, which he dropped before storming upstairs.

While my dearest friends were sympathetic and encouraging, a few added caveats like, “Well, if you and your mom, like… you know… want to kill each other, you can always drive home.”

Even my twin sister counseled me and my mother to consider the challenges.

Generally, it seemed that people were worried we would lose some hard-earned freedoms. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t either. I valued my freedom to determine my family’s routines, to maintain a particular parenting approach, to fully express myself, to work from home in a dedicated office space, to make and clean up messes, to be loud or quiet, to control my schedule, and to eat a certain way.

Did I mention, I planned to homeschool? Surely this would curb my free time.

But people seemed to think that the biggest issue at stake was the conflict that might arise as we negotiated the terms of living together.

I wasn’t convinced that co-living with family would be a staggering blow to my freedom, or a risk to my relationship with my mother. Of course, we’d have to navigate new territory, but what if facing those challenges and finding compromise could bring us closer together? Might we discover new freedoms?

Mamma and I on an NYC bus with the girls, on one of many homeschool field trips. Growing up outside the city meant lots of field trips as a child, where we explored other cultures through food, visited museums, and saw theater.

Cora on the Metro North train from Norwalk to NYC, an experience I never tired of as a child. I loved these moments of liminal space with the girls.

For many in our society, multi-generational family living has become a relic of the past. While I, like many of my generation, left home for school and work opportunities elsewhere, I’ve always imagined having a base centered on family connections. And yet, I’ve lived far from my family for two decades, not without heartbreak. Until now, it seemed the only solution was to move closer.

But it’s not that simple. I’ve lived in the Finger Lakes for fourteen years. I’ve come to know the land intimately. Our business is here. I’ve raised and co-parented my children with friends who often feel like additional life partners. Our children are soul-siblings, I have a circle of sisters I fiercely love, and a community I celebrate and feel deeply aligned with.

There isn’t adequate language for my chosen family and the mutual reciprocity of our community. (I highly recommend delving deeper on this topic in Ezra Klein’s podcast, What Relationships Would You Want If You Believed They Were Possible?)

I’m good at building community and making new homes. And, I’ve lived long enough to know that - like anything sacred - deep-rooted community is not rebuilt in a day.

And, my blood-family is also my bedrock. I love them with equal ferocity.

Reconciling these two loves has been painful, in part, because the solution always seems binary: here or there.

But in the past few years a dear friend and fellow first-gen mutt posed an interesting question: as I work to nurture all these vital relationships in my life, could I be poly-geographical?

After all, I come from a long line of refugees and nomads. There isn’t one place we can point to and call “home.”

Calf Pasture Beach in Norwalk, CT, the home shore of my childhood five minutes from my mother’s house, where we spent hours collecting shells as my children do when we visit.

Why did I need to move to a place I couldn’t afford or transfer my kids to a new school to be near family right now? Was there another way?

This is what prompted our six week trip to Connecticut.

For many, the idea of multi-generational family living has become unconventional, when in fact, for some people, it is still ideal. It can provide a built-in support system for every household member, the transfer of knowledge between generations, and an undeniable sense of belonging.

These benefits became immediately apparent to me once we’d settled in. My stepdad was coaxed from his den to play lively games of Doodle and Hangman, interspersed with stories from his past. Mamma and I planned meals together, taking turns or cooking side-by-side, where I learned old tricks like the secret to making succulent polpette (recipe below). In the morning, the girls bypassed my room and went straight to the kitchen for the morning crossword with them both, and I dressed in peace. The girls entertained my little sister’s baby, giving her a break, and we found camaraderie in motherhood. Bobby and I had a date! More than once.

And more sparingly than I’d anticipated, my mother and I had the chance to resolve small conflicts with time, love, and compassion.

One day before dinner we had a small spat. I went to bed, too proud and tender to continue the discussion. She knocked softly at the door and came in, crawling under the covers next to me. “I don’t want you to go to bed angry darling. I love you,” she said. “Buona notte piccolina.” She tucked me in with a kiss, showing me it is never too late and we are never too old to repair the relationships we cherish most.

My stepfather Peter, a world traveler and multi-linguist, offering a geography lesson to the girls.

My daughters’ time with family was priceless, committing their bonds to memory in their bones. Programming a life where family – whether given, chosen, or a mix of both – is central, despite our vast differences, and sometimes, distances.

In the end, my freedom wasn’t usurped. Neither was my mother’s, or my children’s. Instead, the limits of what was possible expanded.

Have I solved my heartbreak? No. Heartbreak is human.

But can I embrace - celebrate! - my immense good fortune in having family I adore in more than one place, and more than one home, each relationship unique and precious? Yes.

One is not better than the other. They are different. And they are everything to me.

I’ll leave you with a recipe that always calls me home: my mamma’s Polpette al Sugo con Spaghetti.

From bursting redbuds and cricket song,

Emma

P.S. If any part of this letter resonates with you, I’d love to hear your victories, struggles, and thoughts in the comments below!

The Great Ledge in Redding, CT, a beloved hike and climbing crag not far from my childhood home. Revisiting old memories, and forming new ones with my children.

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Classic Italian Meatballs with Sauce (Polpette al Sugo)

Yield: 28 meatballs ⎹ Prep time: 20 min ⎹ Cook time: 30 min ⎹ Level: Easy

Italian polpettine are one of the first recipes I remember making with my mother. I watched as she poured milk over the breadcrumbs, made from the aged heels of bread she accrued precisely for this purpose. While they soaked, absorbing the milk, we prepared the beef mixture, adding egg, fresh parsley, salt, and Parmigiano Reggiano. I always stole a nibble from the cheese block. Finally, we added the soaked breadcrumbs to the meat, and standing on a chair to reach the counter, I helped shape them with my hands. Breadcrumbs are what make meatballs moist and fluffy, and lend them to breaking apart easily in the pasta - which I love. This recipe makes a double batch of meatballs so you can freeze half for another easy weeknight meal. If you love this recipe, please consider sharing it with friends!

Sauce:

• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, plus 2 Tbsp

• 1/2 yellow onion, finely diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 28-ounce can tomato puree or strained tomatoes

• 1 tsp salt

Meatballs:

• 1 cup breadcrumbs

• 1/2 cup milk

• 2 lbs. ground beef

• 2 eggs

• 1 clove garlic, minced

• 1 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano, plus extra to garnish

• 1/2 - 2/3 cups minced parsley (optional)

• 1 tsp salt

• 1 box spaghetti

Instructions:

In a large pot, heat the water for the pasta.

In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat.

Add the onions and sauté for about 2 minutes, and then add the garlic, continuing to sauté until the onions are soft.

Add the pureed tomato, salt, and remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, stirring to incorporate. Simmer over medium-low while you prepare your meatballs.

To prepare the meatballs: Add the breadcrumbs and milk to a bowl, and mix with a fork to incorporate until the milk is absorbed. Set aside.

In a large bowl, add the ground beef, eggs, garlic, grated cheese, parsley, and salt. Add soaked breadcrumbs to the mixture. Use your hands to mix thoroughly. Take about 1/4 cup of the beef mixture and roll into a ball, transferring to a baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining mixture, until you have about 28 meatballs.

Transfer fourteen meatballs to the simmering saucepan, nestling them in the sauce. Increase the heat to medium and cook for 5 minutes, then gently turn the meatballs with a spoon and cover the pan. Continue to cook for 10 minutes on the other side, until the meatballs are firm when pressed with the back of a wooden spoon. Once firm, remove from the heat and set aside. Use the spoon to gently move the meatballs and sauce around, scraping the sauce from the bottom of the pan. While the meatballs cook, prepare the spaghetti according to the instructions on the packaging.

Drain the spaghetti and place a serving in each bowl. Top with sauce and 2-3 meatballs over top. Garnish with Parmigiano Reggiano.

Transfer the baking sheet with the remaining meatballs to the freezer. Once frozen, transfer the meatballs to a Ziplock freezer bag and store in the freezer for up to 6 months. When ready to cook, thaw and throw ‘em in some sauce!

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