I was making Italian meatballs for one of my myriad book clubs and was clipping along with the entire process pretty well until I popped them in the oven to brown. Opening the oven 20 minutes later I could immediately see that something was very wrong. It looked like they’d laid down to sleep. They’d just turned into mush. Fortunately, being the very calm and collected person I am the choked screaming lasted less than 5 minutes at which point I was able to peel myself off the floor and carefully wipe my tear-stained face before hightailing it back to the butcher to start the process over. They worked out this time and with far less drama. Not that there was none at all, yes, I was shrilly talking to myself in a sort of high pitched voice for the rest of the deal, but it wasn’t as dramatic as it could have been.
My wife-in-the-eyes-of-the-Lord once made Swedish meatballs and neglected to put the egg (which is what binds them) into the mix and we ended up having Swedish spaghetti. But I’d put the egg in it. I have photographic evidence of that so I have no idea what the hell happened.
I saved the mess of it though. I’m going to make lasagne with it. More on that later. But I think the takeaway here is that if something doesn’t work out you can just throw it in a different pan and call it Italian.