My Grandmother's Secret Swedish Meatball Recipe

Editor's Note: I originally wrote this story on the 26th of December of 2011. However, yesterday would have been my grandma‘s 105th birthday, and this is one of the memories of her that I’ll never forget. 


Swedish meatballs have been a Christmas tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. We originate more or less from the Twin Cities in Minnesota, my father from the St. Paul side and my mother from the Minneapolis side. Thus, when I was doing my childhood growing-up in Michigan we would complete a cold, snowy 13 hour drive every year to Minnesota to celebrate the holidays. Christmas Eve was spent with my mother’s parents and Christmas Day with my father’s parents. It was fantastic- two Christmas dinners! On Christmas Eve we had a huge feast and the best Swedish meatballs known to man were part of the feast. On Christmas Day we would then drive to St. Paul and have a succulent rib eye roast with all the trimmings.

It’s been about 25 years since we were able to partake in the Minnesota double Christmas feed (and double Santa visits- he came to both grandparents' houses). My mother’s parents moved to Tucson, I moved to Seattle and for a while we had to alternate Christmas visits between Minnesota and Arizona. I was blessed to have both sets of my grandparents in my life until my early thirties. Now I’m blessed that I get to see my grandmother on my mother’s side every Christmas.

After my parents retired to Asheville, NC. My grandma, who is 90 and fit as a fiddle, has now also relocated to the area. My brother lives 4 hours north in Raleigh, leaving me as the prodigal daughter on the other side of the pond. Last year was an incredibly special Christmas as it was the first one where all of us had been together in a few years. My parents were also able to be the Christmas hosts, which hadn't happened in decades. In the most recent years previous to this, we spent Christmas, usually without my brother, at my grandmother's place in Tucson. The kitchen in her flat was quite small, so instead of making Swedish meatballs from scratch, we had been purchasing them from places like Trader Joe’s. They were good, but nowhere near as scrumptious as the ones my grandmother made back in the day. That year my mother was pulling out all stops. We would have the homemade Swedish meatballs for Christmas Eve dinner along with all the other traditions we had observed when I was a child (except the double Santa visits).

On Christmas Eve my grandma arrived and she and my mother went into the kitchen. My mother took out the recipe my grandmother had given her years ago and said, “Look, mom, it’s your old Swedish meatball recipe.”

“Ahhh… you know where I got that?” asked my grandmother as she donned her apron.

“No, I don’t,” my mother admitted and waited anxiously to hear a story about how our family recipe had been handed down from previous generations of family in Sweden.

“From Playboy magazine,” my grandmother said nonchalantly, “Your father’s Playboy, of course. I didn’t make a habit of reading it.”

And so the delicious meatballs, which practically melt in your mouth, were made and consumed while we wondered aloud if the Playboy edition where the recipe had originated featured Swedish models that month.

Today is Christmas Eve and we are once again having these delicious Swedish meatballs tonight for dinner. For those of you who might want the recipe that came into our family via Playboy, here it is. Happy Christmas to all!!

Tear 2 slices of stale bread in small chunks and soak in 1/2 cup of lite cream.
Peel a medium potato, cut into chunks and boil. When it's nice and soft force it through a strainer.
Chop one medium onion extremely fine.
Put the onion in the pan with 1 tbs butter and slowly sauté until onion is yellow.
Combine in deep bowl the breadbread, cream, potato onion, 1 beaten egg, 3/4 lb lean ground pork, 1/4 lb lean ground pork, 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp allspice, 1/8 tsp pepper.
Mix very well (use your hands) until bread disappears.
Shape into 1 in balls.
Place in a shallow baking pan.
Bake at 475 (Fahrenheit) for 20 minutes, turning once until balls brown.
Melt 2 tbs butter in a large saucepan and stir in 2 tbs flour, blending well.
Gradually add 10 1/2 oz can consummé.
Add balls.
Turn to low and cook for 1/2 hour.
Stir in 1/4 cup cream.
Bring to boil, season to taste.
YUMMMY!!
Enjoy! :-)

My Donald Trump Diet

No, I'm not going to be eating Cheesburgers in my bed, but Donald Trump is the primaray motivation for the diet that I intend on following from now until the first of December, 2018.

First let's begin with the rules:
While I am in the United Kingdom I will not knowinly consume the following things:
-Food containing refined sugar or added fructose
(energy gels, etc. during long cycles okay, but no cake)
-White flour
-Dairy (with the exception of a small amount of milk in my one cup of coffee)

While I am in the United Kingdom I must do the following things:
-Drink 64 fluid ounces of water a day
-Accumulate no less than 70,000 steps a week
-Exercise 4 times a week
-Only drink one cup of coffee a day

My escape clause:
I am allowed one cheat day (24 hours) a month. However, on months when I am travelling outside of the United Kingdom, I am not allowed any cheat days, but I must still do my best to stick to my step goal, drink water, and eat sensibly when travelling outside the UK. Exercise and step goals still apply for cheat days duing months when I don't travel. Also, I'm allowed 8 cheat days in May (it's my big birthday month-I get to enjoy it a bit).

Where does Donald Trum come in?
If I break the rules of my diet, I need to donate £300 to the Trump fund. The thought of doing that is enough to ruin my appetite.

Let's see how this goes!

H NOT in London right now, PT 1

Damn, the Charlotte airport is big! It's a bit like a fancy mall with airline gates, and it just goes on and on and on.

And, that's where I am right now, quickly writing about the first of many parts of my journey through the USA as I wait for the connection to Chicago. I had an amazing twelve days in North Carolina, both at in Asheville and at Topsail Island. Here's some of the highlights.

First, my journey from Heathrow to Asheville was perfect, no lost luggage, no delayed flights, and ever since Delta has paired up with Virgin Atlantic, flying transatlantic is lovely. I was given my seat at the gate, something that has never happened to me before, and I was a bit worried. Not being able to select my seat was a bit disconcerting. However, I ended up in Delta comfort, which completely lived up to its name.

The first two days in Asheville were spent with my parents running errands, seeing my grandma, and getting ready to head to the beach. During this time, my father and I had an amazing lunch at a small little place close to where they now live, called Abejas House Cafe. It's small and from the outside, you wouldn't think much about it and may possibly pass
it by, but don't! It's amazing. All the food is fresh and mostly locally grown and/or organic. Plus, it's reasonably priced. If you follow the hyperlink above, it will take you to their "about" page, and it's clear that they are the type of business that should be lauded. If you live in or are visiting Asheville, go! They even serve chilaquiles, although they don't appear on the online menu.

Okay, I'm done sounding like an advertisement...

View from the house (taken by my brother)

On Saturday, my mom, dad, and I loaded up the car and started out for Surf City to the beach house we stayed at the year before (actually it's a duplex and this year we were next door) However, within the first 30 minutes of our journey we were delayed due to a milk truck accident on the highway.
Fortunately, (and also luckily) we were ten cars back from where this occurred, so after the three quarters of an hour that it took to clear the highway, we were quickly on our way.

View from The Bistro

Once we finally arrived at the house on Topsail Beach, we met up with my hot and sweaty brother, who had been waiting for us in his car for an hour or more, changed into nicer clothes and jetted over to The Bistro. This restaurant, as well as spending a week on Topsail Island, has become a new family tradition. My mother's birthday is at the beginning of July, so last year we did this trip to celebrate it. We ended up loving it all so much, we did it again this year and will repeat it next year. By the way (and briefly reverting to my advertisement tone) The Bistro serves the most excellent food and makes a damn good Old Fashioned.

Other highlights from the week at Topsail beach included:

-Multiple Firework viewings from the towns and businesses near to the house, including a fantastic display from the people in the house next to us on both the 3rd and 4th of July. We didn't have to leave and face traffic and crowds to enjoy fireworks this year.

-Down the beach about two houses, there was a small evening wedding on the beach (it may have put some ideas in my head-haha)

Sunrise taken by my mother

-Amazing weather only broken up by the occasional thunderstorm. The surf was a bit too raucous at times to swim, but we braved the sea a few times anyway.

My Topsail toes

However, for me the highlight of the trip came on the penultimate night that we were there. My dad noticed a gathering on the beach of about 16 people. They seemed to be forming a semi-circle around a rather large mound. My mom called me to come and see, and after looking for a few moments, I saw the mound move. Realising it was a sea turtle, I flew down the steps to join my dad, who was talking to our next-door neighbour. The crowd included some volunteers from The Sea Turtle Rescue and Rehabilitation Centre, who were making certain no disturbed this magnificent animal. She was massive, possibly the largest sea turtle I'd ever seen, and she had just climbed from the sea to an area under one of the steps of the house next to us, dug a hole, laid eggs, and now was making her way slowly back to the sea. Unfortunately, I left my phone in the house and was too mesmerised by the whole thing to go back to get it. It was truly amazing to witness.

Panorama from the deck

After our beach week ended, we returned to Asheville where we ran errands, visited my grandma, took a dip in the pool, and spent a lovely evening with my parents friends, Jan and Ken.

My pool toes

So now I'm in the Charlotte Airport awaiting my flight to Chicago, which boards in five minutes, for the next part of this journey. I'm going to quickly publish and post this, so please forgive my grammar for now.

Ciao for now and see you for part two!

From the mouths of babes on today of all days...

It's the day of the election in the US, and people over here in the UK are worried...all people, not just ex-pats.  The hate and vitriol that has permeated this election has affected civility and common decency on what I've seen in the news and social media. This whole fiasco has brought me to the point of despair over the human race.

Until about 10 minutes ago...

If you've read my blog in the past (or you just know me), you know I teach grade 6 at an international school in the UK. The school is approximately 30-40% American with a wealth of nationalities making up the other 70-60%. Earlier this morning one of my homeroom students came to me and asked if she could come in with a group of students and do some filming at lunch recess for a little project she was making for fun. I was a bit annoyed by this because we're in the midst of grading and report writing, and I'm swamped with work. But, I grudgingly obliged, warning that if they were too noisy I would make them leave.

So in they came...quietly...a big bunch of them, and they spread out amongst my desks, taking books from my classroom library and pretending to read as my student walked around the classroom filming them with her iPad. They then all gathered together behind two students who had a notebook with messages on four pages. My student zoomed in on each page, reading the messages aloud, so she could make certain that she was giving enough time for each message to be read.

Page 1- "You see a mixed race classroom. This is our school"

Page 2- "We accept each other for who we truly are no matter of religion, belief or skin color"
Page 3- "Our school treats each other equally and cares for each other because we are a community"
Page 4- "Why can't the world be like our school?"

 As I watched this my eyes welled up with tears. This was not an assignment. No one had suggested they do this. They felt it had to be said, so they gave up their recess to say it.

And with that, my faith in humanity is restored.