The Turkish have kofte, the Poles have pulpety. Swedes make kottbuller, and the Greeks fry keftedes. But when you’re talking meatballs in New York City, only one type comes to mind — it’s coated in velvety red sauce, flecked with oregano, and sits atop a mound of steaming pasta.
Our iconic ‘ball might have more to do with the New World than Napoli, but its influence on Italian-American is inextricably tied to New York City. Our hometown marks a time and a place where Italian-American became just American. And nowhere in this city harks back to Don Corleone’s red-sauce era quite as aptly as Bamonte’s in Williamsburg.
Behold: Our beautiful, blurry, holiday dinner.