O Broder, Where Art Thou?

In retrospect, even without snow piled up to the rafters, it was the perfect day to go to a Swedish restaurant. It was (for Portland) a bitterly cold Saturday morning, with temperatures hovering around thirty degrees and the wind trying to work its fingers through every crack and crevice in the layers of clothing between it and my skin.

I was meeting a friend for my first ever breakfast at the much-raved-about Broder, which beat Grüner owner Chris Israel to the "alpine cuisine" table by at least a couple of years. And I've never seen a line wrapping around the block at Israel's place waiting for his food, good as it is. Maybe he should try making the little popovers known as aebleskivers with house-made lemon curd and lingonberry jam that have been drawing raves from rabid fans since Broder opened its doors.

In any case, when I arrived my friend had already taken shelter in the Savoy Tavern next door, which wasn't even open. Did she break in to get out of the whipping wind? No! In a stroke of brilliance, the owner of both spots, Peter Bro, has otherwise-frostbitten patrons to wait in the warm comfort of the bar with complimentary serve-yourself coffee available.

After a not-too-long wait, we were ushered into Broder. Long and narrow, it has small two-tops crowded along a wooden banquette on one wall and an open galley kitchen fronted by a long counter against the other wall. Two more tables are jammed against the front windows (though they're the best seats in the house), so don't go expecting to stretch out or have an intimate conversation…you'll end up getting advice from those you're elbowing.

They were out of their "Pytt i Panna" or Swedish hash, so I opted for the lefse (above left), a Swedish potato crepe which on this day came folded around smoked ham and set on a drizzle of herbed sour cream. Someone here really likes precise geometrical shapes, because both the crepe and the two eggs on top were perfectly square…cute, of course, but really, squares? The pancake played nicely with the ham and softly-fried eggs, and there was just enough sauce to moisten the crepe.

My friend ordered the Swedish meatballs (top photo), and all I could think of were the tiny, dried-out little nuggets that Ikea sells by the car-load to spaced-out shoppers. Knowing her, I should have known better. What arrived was a little pyramid of perfectly-seasoned meatballs (and yes, I begged one off of her) delicately blanketed with a lovely sherry cream sauce. She'd ordered it with the walnut toast, lingonberry jam and a salad, but I've heard you can sub the walnut toast for a slice of toasted brioche bread, which many recommend.

Not being an avid breakfast person, even I'd go back for another shot at those aebleskivers, just not on a weekend when there's a wait for the cheek-by-jowl seating…though maybe it's the Swedes' way of staying warm in the winter.

Details: Broder, 2508 SE Clinton St. 503-453-0166.

Top photo by Kim Ferris.

On Top of Spaghetti

On top of spaghetti
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball
When somebody sneezed.

It had been eons since I'd made meatballs, but reading yet another rave about Sellwood food cart Garden State's meatball sandwiches had me craving some of those orbs of meaty perfection smothered in marinara and served with spaghetti. And since my meat-loving brother and his bride were coming for dinner, it made a perfect excuse to whip up a batch.

I'd seen a recipe for meatballs from winemaker Athena Pappas of Boedecker Cellars in a recent issue of MIX magazine, so I pulled it out. Hers used cooked potato as the binder rather than bread crumbs and were all beef, whereas I tend to like a half meat-half sausage mix for the extra moisture and flavor the pork fat delivers.

So with that in mind, I made a batch of my Basic Marinara Sauce, plopped in the browned (but not cooked through) meatballs and simmered them for a half hour or so in the sauce, then served them over spaghetti. The meat juices added that just-right touch of meatiness to the sauce, pulling the whole dish together.

It's definitely not going to be another eon before I make these again, and the recipe could easily be tweaked with different ground meats, or tilted to other cuisines (like Indian, Mexican or Moroccan) by adjusting the spicing. Delicious!

Mama's Meatballs
From Friday Night Dinner Party, by Athena Pappas, MIX magazine, Oct.-Nov. '08

Makes about 42 1" meatballs

1 medium russet potato, peeled and quartered
2 tsp. olive oil
1 large onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 lbs. lean ground beef [I used a pound each of Italian pork sausage and beef - KAB]
1 egg, beaten
¼ c. grated parmesan cheese
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
¼ c. roughly chopped fresh parsley
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp. freshly ground black pepper
Vegetable oil, for frying

In a small saucepan, boil the potato in generously salted water until soft, about 20 minutes. Drain, mash and set aside. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until soft, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.

In a large bowl, add the mashed potato, the onion-garlic mixture, ground beef, egg, parmesan cheese, oregano, parsley, salt and pepper. Mix together thoroughly with your hands. Moisten your hands lightly with water and form rounded tablespoons of the meat mixture into small ovals.

Heat a thin layer of oil in a large skillet over medium-high. Fry the meatballs until cooked all the way through, turning to brown them evenly, a total of about 6 to 8 minutes. Serve immediately.

Adapted from Fifi Thomas Psihogios, in “Flavor It Greek!” by Philoptochos Society of Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church.