Over the weekend, I was thrilled and relieved, in equal measure, to be in a kitchen with water, worktops, a hob, a fridge, and a floor. What a luxury after a month of dusty renovations, the end of which still feels a way off.
I began simply, with frilly fried eggs on hot marmite toast, and a hot cup of tea. The emphasis was indeed on “hot”, something that has been notably lacking recently.
Later in the day, I turned to one of my favourite things to cook: meatballs. There is something about this specific process (and yes, making meatballs is a process) that lowers my shoulders and loosens my mind. From the picking of the mint leaves and the squelching of the mince, to the adamant pursuit of browning and the final adornments at the table, each tactile — almost meditative — step in the process takes me and the meatballs one bit closer to bobbing contentment. It is this unwinding quality of cooking that I have truly missed.
In contrast to their porky meatball cousins cloaked in tomato sauce (which I love deeply, too), these meatballs are altogether lighter and spring-ier. They are flecked with mint (fresh and dried, because each offers something different) and lemon. They are brothy and bobbing. They are served with tangles of pea shoots, dollops of yoghurt, chilli flakes and more mint, all of which reinforce the flavours in the pot.
I hope you love them as much as I do. And if your wishes are anything like mine, I hope the making and the eating is followed by a hot bath while someone else (or a machine) does the washing up.
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