Friday, April 2, 2010

Lucille Balls

I’m a redhead, I made meatballs, so that’s the story behind the name. But boy do I love balls. Balls balls balls. Who doesn’t like a good ball? Meatball that is. Big, small, round…don’t matter, I’m in.

These are lazy ass meatballs. Because I’m lazy. No, I’m really not, but if you really are lazy, which I suspect that some of you are, these are the meatballs for you.

Shit you’re gonna need:

1 pound of ground beef (You can use turkey. But be a man, eat red meat. Although my friend Megan thinks I eat too much red meat. She’s just looking out for my arteries since I don’t and I love her for it)

2 cups of Stove Top stuffing (it’s actually a whole box, but I buy the shit in bulk, so I’ve got a can of it. Shit is good. And it’s got all those blessed seasonings already in it – again, this is for the lazy)

1 beaten egg

½ cup of creamy dressing (I used Thousand Island, but I typically use Ranch. Do not…I repeat, do not use Blue Cheese. It just doesn’t work right. I don’t know why because I’m not fucking Alton Brown, so just believe me)

1 cup of shredded cheese (I used sharp cheddar because the cottage cheese on my ass likes it. I don’t want to piss off my ass, because God knows it’ll get bigger just to spite the new bathing suit I bought)

Foil lined aluminum pan sprayed with non-stick spray

Shit you’re gonna do:

Preheat your oven to 375. The first tip I have for you is that I lay out my meat about 30 minutes before I make the balls. I do this because when I’m mixing this shit with my hands, I don’t feel like freezing my freakin’ hands off. Yes, I’m that fucking sensitive. So, mix your meat, stove top, egg, dressing and cheese all together. Don’t be a puss, dig your hands in there and mix that shit around. Squeeze it between your fingers and get it mixed reeeeaaaaal good. It’s invigorating. Just like eating chocolate the day after Lent is over because you decided like a dumb ass to give that shit up, (yes, Allston, that’s for you). I actually gave up chocolate last year for Lent. I think my friend Skye still shivers when she thinks of that horrendous month because I was NOT a happy fucking camper and she had to deal with my cranky ass the whole way through. At least I didn’t give up vodka. If that happened, the moon would loose its third rotation and fucking Mickey Mouse would actually talk like a man. Hell would break loose I tell ya’. And yes, hell on earth would be Mickey Mouse talking like James Earl Jones. Where the fuck was I? Oh, mixing the balls. Okay, so once your meat is thoroughly mixed, roll these bastards into little balls. My balls are perfect because I’m a fucking perfect person. Everything I do is absolutely right and I can never do wrong. And I think the hubs just pissed himself when he read that. Well dumb fucks, I’m not perfect. I use a measuring spoon. Each and every one of my balls is one tablespoon. They cook evenly and there’s no arguing in the oven between balls about who’s bigger and who looks more like a sack. I also smooth them over so there’s no cracks – because who the hell wants a cracked ball. Not me.

Now, this makes quite a few balls. You can cook the whole batch and freeze the ones you don’t think you’ll use, so when you don’t feel like getting your ass off the couch from reading your new Southern Living magazine, you can tell the hubs that it’s Columbus Day. You discover it. You eat it. And that’s all I have to say about that.

So, bake these bad boys for about 30-40 minutes until they’re done. You can use the bastards with marinara over noodles. You can put them in a meatball sub, or you can do what I did last night; you can make that bad ass sauce from Ikea and pour that shit all over them. Happy ball making people. That is all.

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