The Malunggay Chronicles : Monster Meatballs from Mars

 

“Monster Meatballs from Mars

- Ang Pagbabalik"

YOU WILL NEED:

1 large onion chopped – preferably by someone else since they are not only smelly, but will also make you cry. Which description – come to think of it – could also be used to describe certain boys I have known.

5 cloves of garlic minced – see description above. The allusion to boys also applies here.

1 cup of bread crumbs - get a couple of slices from that stash mouldering in your refrigerator and whizz them in the blender. Trust me, this is better than the store bought variety, which as my mother informs me, was probably made from nasty, leftover, stale bread that the supermarket couldn’t sell. (Just use your own nasty, leftover stale bread. It’s more personal that way.) 

½ kilogram of ground pork – because we are not, nor will we ever be, vegans. Period.

½ kilogram of ground beef – because...well...what’s wrong with meat? What did it ever do to you? And well, they're well...meatballs.

1 egg beaten - I’d make egg jokes here but I AM still aiming for a PG-13 rating so I will restrain myself and will just make cheesy comments instead...which brings me to.....

1 cup grated cheese - whatever cheese you have is fine, as long as it’s REAL cheese, not those nasty things from the cardboard box pretending to be quick melting “cheese”.  If they spell “cheese” with “z”s instead of “s”s, you’re probably using the wrong kind.

For my version, I grated the leftover queso de bola from Christmas. It was, by this time, as hard as a rock, but quite yummy. And yaya can thank me for the new definition in her arm muscles from the grating.

1 cup Malunggay Leaves - pureed. ..Because after all, this IS called The Malunggay Chronicles and the leaves HAD to show up somewhere. And by the way, you’ll also need....

¼ cup of olive oil - in the blender with the malunggay unless you want try pureeing them dry --- in which case you’ll need to lock up your babies, cats or other housemates with sensitive hearing in a soundproof room to avoid hysterical crying and all around mayhem caused by the loud, grinding noise the blender will make.

Basil, Oregano and Parsley – nice to have the fresh stuff but the dried McCormick kind will do, unless you’re real chef (in which case—WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EVEN BE CONSIDERING USING THIS RECIPE???!!@##$!@) or a purist (in which case – please refer to the previous comment and stop reading my freaking blog!@$!!)

Salt and Pepper to Taste - whatever that means.(I just always wanted the opportunity to someday use that phrase)

Some Cornstarch - please don’t ask me to measure because I’m pretty sure we don’t own measuring cups.

WHAT TO DO NEXT:

Upon arriving with the malunggay (in my case, this would be after climbing over the fence separating our garage from the neighbor’s yard), wash and pat the leaves dry. 

Seriously.  

Wash them VERY well. (Remember, you live in Manila and I don’t even want to know how much dust and germs are on the leaves – just a tip, if the washing water is still brown, you’re probably not done with the washing. Meanwhile, make Maynilad happy keep the faucet running.) 

Puree leaves in blender. Preferably with ½ cup of olive oil. Olive oil optional of course...provided that you have put on earplugs and placed baby in soundproof room (see note in ingredients section).

Puree 3 slices of Tasty Bread or whatever stale bread-like stuff you have in the fridge - as long as it’s not furry or walking on its own, it should be fine.

In a really big bowl, mix the onions, garlic, pork, beef, spices and beaten egg.

Mash ingredients around. It’s easier to just use your hands for this – the mixture gets quite thick sticky and I bent one of my mom’s Solingen spoons the last time (needless to say, she was not pleased) I used a utensil.

Oh, and wash hands first.

Add the breadcrumbs and grated cheese. Mash again. Pretend it’s your worst enemy’s ugly mug you’re mashing about and that you’re actually doing the world a favor since the mashing could only improve their looks. In my case, followers of my blog know whose faces I’m thinking of. But in their case, there’s really no hope for improvement so any mashing is futile. Good for my triceps though.

Add pureed malunggay mixture. DO NOT BE ALARMED WHEN THE MIXTURE TURNS A HORRIBLE, ICKY SHADE OF GREEN.

Prevent all family members or other intended consumers of the finished product from seeing the mixture. Otherwise, they will refuse to eat this and all your efforts will have been in vain.

Add beaten egg and continue mashing. Now, the mixture will not only be green and icky – it will be green, icky AND slimy.

Salt and pepper to taste – whatever that means. I would skip the tasting part. Just wing it. There’s raw egg in there and salmonella is a possibility. Maybe a tablespoon of salt and a tablespoon of pepper. (You can always add salt when you’re eating it. And if anyone complains, tell them to cook their own damned dinner.)

Using one heaping spoonful at a time, form into balls roughly the size of those rubber balls you used to play jackstones with.

Roll in cornstarch and line them up in neat rows in a baking pan sprinkled with corn starch – they just look nicer this way.  (The neat rows part is optional. I’ve just been hanging out with my friend Jazel - who’s OC that way - too much.)

Let ‘em chill (in the refrigerator.) -- because shouldn't we all just?

Fry. 

Meatballs should turn brown – if still green, they’re not done yet. And by the way, taking them out every 2 seconds will NOT help them cook faster. 

Once done, the Monster Meatballs from Mars can be placed on top of spaghetti with pomodoro sauce.  (Or for us peasants, the “Italian Style” Del Monte tomato sauce heated up in a pan will do....anyone with chef-ish delusions of culinary ability or purist tendencies are requested to hold their peace and keep their comments to themselves. No one forced you to read this, right??) 

Serve.

Convince 5 year old daughter (and husband) that the meatballs do NOT have vegetables in them – they are just from Mars.  You'll probably have better luck convincing the husband. If not, there's always an annulment -- which, just so you know, I happen to specialize in as well and which coincidentally, is probably why my husband (claims) to love my cooking.

P.S. I’m pretty sure this will work with spinach too. Or other random vegetables.  

P.P.S. This is a real recipe and is quite edible. We had it for dinner tonight – and these are real pictures. Really.

 

 

 

The Chronicles of Malunggay Part I

Or "How Turning into Cow Helped Me Discover my Hidden Kitchen Goddess"

Tabitha, is a callous, voracious, heartless little parasite.  She is demanding, loud and impatient.  In full throttle, her cries of outrage can be heard two locks down the street and have been known to set-off the car alarm on our neighbor's fancy porsche.   She has the temper of John MacEnroe on speed and when crying, has the endurance of Lance Armstrong on the Tour de France (we actually timed her once and she didn't stop crying -- loudly -- for 48 minutes straight). 

Do NOT be fooled by the engaging grin.  Do NOT allow yourself to be hypnotized by her twinkly eyes.  Do NOT make eye contact at all lest you be unwittingly drawn into an "Awwwww...." moment.

Tabitha is the annihilator. 

She's also six months old and happens to be the world's most adorable baby -- or so I  like to think (...and many people agree with me on this, like ROn, and my parents, and Jazel Calvo - who would know because she's smart and a lawyer;  and my sister and my best friend Rutchie who would also know because she's a pediatrician and therefore, has seen gazillions of babies.)

After Tempest abdicated her throne and has gone on to greater things (i.e. single-handedly bossing around her kindergarten class as opposed to just bossing around her parents and family), did I also mention that Tabitha is the new dictator of our household? 

Yes folks. She rules her father and myself with an iron mitten -- embroidered with pink bunnies no less.   

And she's perfect!

An angel.

As long as you feed her when she's hungry.

Or else...

And did I mention I'm breastfeeding?  

(Insert sounds of my unenlightened  male readers -- there are like, two of them probably, -- gagging with disgust and frantically clicking the mouse to navigate away from this page here).

So what do being chased by an irate little dog (who thinks it's a rottweiler but actually looks like a small, dirty, furry rat); our next door neighbor and spaghetti have to do with this blog?  

Everything.

Since it has been a constant struggle to satisfy Miss Tabitha's seemingly insatiable appetite, I have been on a six month quest to discover the holy grail of...well...milk.  Luckily for me, my mother, my OB GYN and Tabitha's pediatrician all agree that  Malunggay will do the trick and that ingesting enough of it will make me a veritable fountain of milk. 

The discovery that I wouldn't actually have to EAT (shudder,shudder) this vegetable threw me over the moon -- they apparently come in capsule fomr now!!  Great.  I'd just need to pop a few pills every now and then, and voila! Gallons of milk.  Fat baby.  Skinny Miscen.

Unfortunately, this did not work out the way I had envisioned.  Apparently ingesting enough capsules to make Pepe Smith proud (if they were drugs) was not enough.

I had to actually EAT the malunggay (shudder shudder shudder).

Which is why on a lovely Tuesday morning (i.e. today), bright and early (i.e. before the stupid dog next door wakes up and notices I'm in their yard) I was helping myself to the neighbor's malunggay leaves.   

To assuage the outrage of my readers (and because you need to know that I am NOT a criminal), the "yard" in question is actually a shared space that neither our neighbor or we own.  The village actually owns it.  My neighbor just decided it was a good place to recreate Tarzan's home jungle and plant twenty gazillion plants in there. 

Everyone knows that mosquitoes just love plants.  Ergo, the fact that by having all those plants around, my neighbor exposes me to dengue fever on a daily basis -- leads me to conclude that I am, at the very least, entitled to help myself to the malunggay. 

(Also, said neighbors are still asleep at this time and hopefully will not notice that half the foliage of their tree is missing).

But then there's the stupid dog.  He has other ideas. And by the way, the delusional (thinks he's a rottweiler remember?) mongrel doesn't even belong to the same neighbor who planted the malunggay tree!

Luckily, I managed to escape with my booty -- a big bilao of malunggay leaves before mop-with-feet (a.k.a. "The Dog") caught up with me. 

 (Note to self : Next time, send yaya for the malunggay leaves.  Or carry big stick --- hmmm...but would need to have free hands for bilao and also, for climbing tree. Hmmm... dilemma.)

Malunggay in hand, and dignity intact (not having fallen out of tree in my pajamas with cats on them or gotten attacked or injured by the mangy rat-dog I fondly refer to as "He-who-must-be-spayed"). 

Upon my arrival, I was met by Ron the Skeptic, whose utter lack of faith in my culinary abilities is insulting considering that:

a) I have NEVER actually poisoned him by accident (...and believe me 
    if I wanted to actually poison anyone, I could do it and make it look like 
    an "accident");

b) It's HIS spawn of a child (aka the cutest baby since Tempest grew up)
    that I'm doing all this hard work for; 

c) The malunggay mixture I concocted (while admittedly strange looking) was
    NOT all THAT bad; and

d) He NEEDS to get over malunggay/orange juice smoothie I made because
   that was ages and ages ago and I'm sure he's had worse stuff to eat
   or drink since then.

So in the face of such (UNDESERVED) skepticism I channeled my inner Nigella Lawson (did I mention that as a fringe benefit of breastfeeding, your ahem "assets" assume Nigella-like proportions).

Et voila ----  "Monster Meatballs From Mars"

(Recipe tomorrow. I promise.  I would type it now but the dictator is awake and the neighbor won't be pleased if his stupid car alarm goes off again.)