A fabulous salutation and Spanish for meatball.
My grandfather Fa taught me my first word in Italian: Polpetta.
You guessed it. Meatball.
My pal Marlena and I have pinky sworn our allegiance to the Meatball Fan Club and conspire to have our own worldwide meatball festival. After all, most cultures have their version of this delicious concoction.
So imagine my surprise when dining in Cabo San Lucas and discovering a pork belly meatball on the menu.
Having recently spent a day with Chef Charlie Palmer and learning about all things pork belly, I was drooling anticipating the fatty and juicy treat.
The appetizer arrived and defied its billing. It was deep-fried. Yuck.
The interior was so dry if I closed my eyes I would have thought it was tuna.
In fact a tuna ball would have been tastier.
This meatball fiasco disappoints, but does not dismay me.
I continue the quest to follow the star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far…
So many albondigas, so many polpettas, so many keftedes.
It’s my Impossible Dream to try them all.