Were I to tell you that these were not the best meatballs that I had ever been served, I would be lying. Were I to have told my dear, sweet Polish grandmother, may God rest her soul, that some day in the future, some random chef in Baltimore would make and serve me meatballs that did for the Italian classic what she did for the Polish variety, I would be ducking under the table as her shoe came flying past my left ear. I grew up in Brooklyn, as I mentioned, and while I will not be revealing my full name here, to protect myself and my business partners, suffice it to say my last name has more consonants than the world had continents.
I have always taken a strong interest in food. I have traveled the globe sampling local oddities and delicacies, and I am a frustrated cook. I am self taught, essentially. This is because, at the very last moment, I acquiesced and decided not to go to the Culinary Institute, as per my parents wishes. My father told me he would pay for business school, but to be a chef I would have to pay my own way.
Despite financial and personal success beyond my wildest dreams, it is still, in a way, the biggest regret in my life that I did not follow my passion.
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