An unsolved family puzzle – Aleppo’s meatballs

Trying to make sense out of cryptic notes in my grandmother's "recipe notebook"

My grandmother was a trailblazer; she started breaking glass ceilings in 1916, at 19, when she decided to study law. She was also a fantastic cook and a master baker.

My maternal grandmother’s “recipe notebook” is one of the most cherished items I inherited from her. It is full of recipes she got from friends and relatives whenever she had something to eat that she or one of us loved. Usually, there is a mention of the person who gave it to her; sometimes, there is a record of the date she wrote it down and when she, or a family member, had it for the first time. The way she describes the recipes reminds me of her better than any photo, specifically looking at the language she uses for her notes. My grandmother grew up speaking Italian, German, and Ladino; she learnt French at school and started learning English from my late American first wife when she was already on the wrong side of seventy.  For instance, the recipe for a pistachio cake, which I love but is way beyond my baking ability, ends with “Mag die ganze Welt versinken, non aprire la porta del forno per venti minuti”. It is half German and half Italian; it means “May the world sink, do not open the oven door for twenty minutes”. It describes an intermediate step, and I can hear my grandmother say that. The German part was her way of saying, “Whatever happens, keep your calm and…”.

I always felt privileged to have her handwritten notes. I already mentioned that my extended family loves cooking and loves food. Luckily, the year my grandmother would have turned one hundred (she died a few months after her ninety-eighth birthday).  I had the idea of typing her notebook to print copies for several family members.

Sometimes, she only lists ingredients. Those cryptic notes become the object of several conversations among family members to try to recreate the actual recipe. Those calls become a way of remembering her by talking about her. Usually, it takes more than one call to recreate a recipe because there is seldom a unanimous interpretation the first time.

During lockdown, I opened her notebook to a page that had one of those cryptic notes. It simply said, “Aleppo meatballs – eaten for the first time at Sarine’s home on 10/3/1957.” The only information was a list of the ingredients: Minced beef, aubergine, potatoes, eggs, and mint. They became the subject of many a Zoom call. We all remembered eating meatballs with dry mint sprinkled on top; we all knew who “Sarine” was, a close friend of my grandmother born in Alexandria, Egypt. We used to call her “Tante Sarine”. My youngest aunt and one of my mother’s cousins were still in touch with one of Tante Sarine’s daughters, so we thought we had a source. Except… she had no idea what we were talking about. I know three Jewish families originally from Syria, they were a possible source of information, and one was even a fantastic cook. Except… they had no idea of a meatball recipe with those ingredients. They were all interested in the recipe once we figured it out.

Half a dozen assorted relatives and I were determined to figure it out; several attempts and at least ten Zoom calls later, we thought we did (Recipe follows). We had many questions about the origin of the recipes, and we thought Tante Sarine’s daughter would have an answer. The puzzle we were trying to solve was the mention of Aleppo. Tante Sarine was born in Egypt; my acquaintance of Syrian origin (some specifically from Aleppo) had never heard of that recipe, so why Aleppo? We still have no idea, but we enjoy the recipe. We have no idea how close we are to what my grandmother tasted sixty-six years ago, but we love the outcome of our several conversations about it. If anybody has any theory about why my grandmother called this recipe “Aleppo meatballs”, please share it in the comment. To this day, we have no idea.

Aleppo’s meatballs

The recipe is based on 500g of minced beef (it also works with turkey or chicken mince. It does not work with lamb mince; I never tried it, but I have it from a reliable source).

500g mince

250g of potatoes

250g of aubergines (weighed after you have burnt and peeled them) [Aubergine=eggplant for my American readers]

Four eggs

Flour or ground matza (for Pesach), just enough to keep the mix together.

Burn the aubergine by leaving it in the oven at 200 for at least 40 minutes (you need to start by punching holes in the aubergine with a fork. I stab the aubergine a dozen times so it does not explode in the oven); you then peel the aubergine (you need to cut off the tip and it is easier if you cut the aubergine in half lengthwise); you should be able to peel it with your fingers if it has spent enough time in the oven. If you do not want to get your fingers dirty, use a spoon to “dig out” the aubergine. You then chop the aubergine into small pieces and put them in the blender. Be careful; aubergines are full of water, and lose weight as you burn them. You need to weigh them after you have burnt and peeled them.

Boil the potatoes and mash them or put them in the blender.

Mix the mince, the aubergine (you have chopped and put in the blender) and the boiled potatoes (same process as the aubergine); add four eggs and enough flour to keep the whole mix together. Once you have the mix with mince, aubergine and potatoes, it is like making meatballs.

Wet your hands and make balls out of the mix.

Variation 1 – roll the meatball in chopped dry mint before you put them on the tray

Put the balls in a try, well-spaced and put them in the oven at 160 for 40 minutes.

Variation 2 – sprinkle chopped dry mint after you have taken them out of the oven.

Recollections vary regarding what happens with the mint; the two variations represent the two mainstream opinions. For the record, I have decided not to add mint.

A second cousin has them alongside hummus. I tried it, and it is really good.

Available on Amazon.