A heaping plate of comfort

I would like to write a beautiful, eloquent post about something very important - something that might inspire people, move them, or make them think about something ordinary in a totally new and extraordinary way.

Unfortunately right now all I can think about is how good my turkey meatballs and spaghetti sauce were tonight, and how satisfied and full I am right now.

I'm still exhausted from yesterday's attempt at trying not to be the world's saddest mother (or at least trying not to exhibit telltale signs of the aforementioned condition) and I have a slight headache from the cool, rainy weather we're having today. The conditions are not ripe for a thoughtful and provoking post.

So I'm just going to tell you about my meatballs instead. There's comfort in the mundane, right? Which must explain why I felt so happy when I smelled the garlic and onions hit the simmering oil in my saucepan late this afternoon. I felt myself relax. I suppose I followed my nose back to simpler times when thoughts of baby death and infertility weren't upper most in my mind (God, I can barely remember those halcyon days). That immediate sensory comfort was nice. Really, really nice.

And my sauce was good too. But this is about the meatballs.

They were turkey balls (*titter*). I mixed ground turkey (still partly frozen, which then partly froze my hands) with a healthy shot of garlic powder, a little dried basil, a few tablespoons of hot sauce, a blob of ketchup and some salt and pepper. I used my popsicle hands to make balls out of the frigid turkey mixture. Then I browned them in a pan before dropping them into the simmering sauce to cook through (the balls, not my hands). They stewed in the sauce for about an hour and a half and were melt-in-your-mouth delectable when it came time to eat them, all moist and flavourful from the sauce they'd been swimming in for so long.

I was satisfied and extremely content when I finally finished devouring my supper. Spaghetti and meatballs just somehow makes me feel safe and cozy. And full, happily so.

I may have just described an extremely intense emotional eating episode, I'm not sure. But the meatballs were low fat (I used extra lean turkey and not a drop of oil) and I was careful about the size of my portions. Relatively careful. So I'm not to be scolded too soundly for it.

I just wanted a little comfort and if it happens to come on a plate with red sauce and grated Parmesan cheese the odd time, I'll take it.

And I'll go for a long walk tomorrow.