Turkey Meatballs (And a winery adventure)

Another installment in the "Mo's Kitchen Escapades" lead me to crafting my own meatball recipe. After a day of wine tasting in the Temecula Valley, I needed something simple and easy to tackle for dinner. And as I mentioned before, I am also trying to systematically stock the freezer with easy to reheat meals.

Our adventures in wine tasting were incredibly successful. We visited three different wineries, definitely peaking at our second stop, which also included lunch. Lunch, though, if you could call it that, was exactly the reason why I needed something for dinner that would not wrek havoc on my very confused tummy.

The winery that we grabbed lunch at offered an amazing concoction--a sourdough breadbowl filled with melted brie. It may not sound that amazing, but let me tell you--this concoction was incredible. The amount of wine we had consumed may have also contributed to my awe, but I don't think my tastebuds were lying. They were rejoicing.

When we first walked into the winery, we walked by baskets that were brimming with fresh, hot and steaming loaves of sourdough. The three of us looked at each other, reached out and touched the warm bundles and instantly agreed that that bread needed to be a part of our visit. Generous pours of fruit-flavored sparkling wines (think: pineapple, raspberry, peach, etc.) and five tastes apiece that turned in to more like 10, we decided it was time to explore our sourdough future.

For $16, we received what I have concluded was bread and cheese nirvana. The sourdough was warm and the crust was crispy and perfect. Peeling back the top layer of bread revealed a buttered garlic bread layer, which thinly veiled the gooey cheese perfection below. The three of us had no problem putting away a bread bowl that was roughly the size of a soccer ball. And we were not ashamed.

We followed this winery stop with an impulse detour into a winery that boasted chocolate wines. We were intrigued when we had initially passed this winery on our way to our other stops. So, as we were headed home, we decided it was necessary to explore this chocolate option.

And necessary doesn't always mean good. We tried them. And they were chocolate. We weren't entirely sure they were "wines," but we did have a good time creating our own tasting notes. From spiked chocolate milk (or Bailey's), to stale Dollar Store chocolate, to Cherry Dimetapp and Boone's Farm and finally Chocolate Mouthwash, the samples were... eclectic? Needless to say, these flavors, on top of the bubbly, real wines and pounds of cheese and bread we had consumed, did not sit well. Turmoil was definitely taking hold in our tummies.

After some serious napping and several gallons of water, I emerged from my chocolate-cheese-carb coma and began fumbling around the kitchen to try and scrape together something for dinner that would not send my already unhappy stomach into further sickening spirals.

The fridge boasted onions, eggs, milk and ground turkey. The pantry had ample spices. It was an easy choice---meatballs were easy to make and the flavors were mild enough that my tummy ache would subside. Plus, I could easily make a large batch and put together some little pasta dishes for the freezer. Added bonus: I could take another power nap while the meatballs baked.

Turkey Meatballs

Ingredients

• 1 lb ground turkey (lean)
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup bread crumbs (I used Italian style)
• 1 T garlic salt
• 1 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon horseradish
• 1 T red pepper flakes
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1/4 cup diced onion
• 1 T minced garlic
• 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning
• 1 T Worcestershire sauce

1. Preheat the oven to 400.
2. Spray a baking sheet with non stick spray.
3. In a large mixing bowl, mix all of the ingredients together. If the mixture will not hold it's shape, add more breadcrumbs.
4. Shape the mixture into golf-ball sized mounds and place them on the baking sheet.
5. Bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes.
6. Toss your meatballs on top of your favorite pasta and sauce!

French Onion Soup

French Onion Soup always makes me think of my mom. I remember when I  was younger, the idea of soup made out of onions was flat out revolting. When my mom would order it, or even talk about it, I couldn't fathom how anyone could appreciate, much less crave, such a disgusting concoction of flavors.

And like she did anytime I turned my nose up at something she tried to feed me (which, in all honesty, wasn't that often because I was a fatass little kid), she told me that someday I would grow into a more adult palate. I thought she was full of it. I would never, ever, ever WANT to eat a soup of onions. Or a salad. Blech! Right?

Well, I guess I'm eating my words now. Sure, there are still things that I don't care for (sour cream, for one), but as much as I hate to admit it, my mom was right. I have grown a taste for some things (like tomatoes). I didn't even realize this transformation was happening, but it really sunk in when someone mentioned French Onion Soup and my mouth actually watered.

The first time, in my adult life, that I tried this concoction was at a hole in the wall sandwich shop off of Decatur in New Orleans, on the outskirts of the French Quarter. I was there for Spring Break, in the March after Katrina hit, working with Habitat for Humanity in St. Bernard Parish. We spent our days gutting homes and preparing them to be treated for mold. We sifted through mud and muck, trying to help the home owners recover any salvageable belongings. And we spent our nights... On Bourbon Street. Duh. What else would a bunch of 20-something college kids do in the Big Easy? Let's be real.

But after a week of Hurricanes, Hand Grenades, Jello shots and fried everything, I was craving a salad. We found a little sandwich place that had just reopened. It still had water marks 5 feet up the walls from the floods. There was still grime caked to the windows. But they had salad. And French Onion Soup. And when that bowl of soup came out, topped with crusty french bread, smothered in melted cheese, that salad became an afterthought. I can't even remember if I touched it. I wanted to bathe in that soup.

It was that day that I fell in love with what my younger taste buds had regarded as disgusting and vile. Now, any time I see French Onion Soup on a menu, I have to try it. And I've had good, and I've had not as good. Panera's is pretty darn good. Nothing really holds a candle to that cup of soup in New Orleans though. That is, of course, until I made my own.

I was nervous to attempt this, because of the high esteem I had for this soup. I figured I would find a way to botch it and then the gross mess that I put together would ruin French Onion Soup for me forever. But I decided to be brave and give it a whirl... And the results?

...So delicious that I didn't even have a chance to take a picture. Because we inhaled it. It was THAT GOOD. Only thing that could have made it better? Some zydeco music in the background and a Cajun creole lady serving it to me, calling me sugar, or child.

French Onion Soup

adapted from Food Everyday

• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 3 large thinly sliced red onions
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 tablespoon flour
• 1/3 cup dry sherry or dry red wine
• 6 cups reduced-sodium chicken stock
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 2 teaspoons reduced-sodium soy sauce
• 4 (3/4-inch) slices whole wheat baguette
• 4 ounces Gruyere cheese, sliced (or swiss, if you're cheap... but it's worth the splurge!)

1. Set oven to broil.
2. Heat butter and olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and salt. Cover; cook 5 minutes. Uncover; add sugar. Cook, stirring frequently, 25 minutes or until onions are golden. Add flour, and reduce heat to medium-low; cook 1-2 more minutes. 
3. Add sherry, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Cook 2 minutes or until slightly reduced. Transfer to a saucepan. Add stock and pepper. Boil; reduce heat to low, and simmer, covered, 15 minutes. Add soy sauce.
4. Place bread slices on a baking sheet; broil 7 minutes per side or until golden. Place one piece of bread in the bottom of an oven proof bowl.
5. Ladle soup into oven proof bowls, on top of the toasted bread. Top with another bread slices and 2 slices of cheese. Broil about 2 minutes or until cheese is bubbly.
6. Now, listen closely... Because it's probably one of the few times I'll say this... Mom, you were right.