My mum's polpettone, a rustic, unassuming Tuscan meatloaf
You can find out much about a family and their habits just by tasting their meatloaf.
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While the world is on fire for Valentine's Day, here I am, sharing the recipe for polpettone, a rustic, unassuming Tuscan meatloaf, and a cucina povera recipe, too.
Many people turn up their noses in front of a meatloaf, one of the least photogenic foods you can imagine. Yet the meatloaf tastes of home. This may be because each family has its own recipe, dictated by needs and habits: one fries it, one cooks it with tomato sauce, and someone else bakes it, adding potatoes and onions to the pan.
Even in the meat mixture, it is the contingency of the moment, the need to finish some ingredients left in the pantry or the lack of something else that creates the traditions: you add bread soaked in milk or mashed potatoes if the meat is scarce, it is enriched with sausages or pancetta if you want to have a richer flavour. The possibilities do not end here, someone uses battuto, the finely chopped carrots, celery and onion, to flavour the minced meat, while others just finely chopped parsley and garlic.
You can find out much about a family and their habits just by tasting their meatloaf.
My polpettone has a story, of course. The story of a mum, my mum, who is not a keen, skilled cook, but who has always fed us with love and dedication. She has a small number of reliable recipes that rotate week after week, year after year, recipes that she has perfected and that mastered through the years. Polpettone is one of that.
Which is the story your family meatloaf is uncovering?
Below the paywall, you can find my mum’s recipe for polpettone and a couple of tricks that will help you get the perfect meatloaf shape and an even browning in the pan. Oh, and also how to get the perfect soft-boiled eggs for polpettone.
And, you will see an unedited video of my mum and me in my home kitchen, with no make-up and home clothes, shaping the polpettone, carefully lifting it from plate to plate. You will hear us squabble in Italian: that’s how we cohabit in the kitchen. We both believe to have the truth and innate knowledge. Most of the time I do my own things, but with polpettone, I always surrender to my mum’s good judgement.