Swedish Meatballs are a beautiful thing on a late winter night.  A classic, somehow more embraced by middle America than Sweden since the 1950’s, and the miraculously transcend time and trend.  You can take the easy way out and pop down to Ikea, come home a few hundred dollars poorer with a trunk full of candles, hangers and knickknacks, along with a bag of frozen meatballs authentico(ish).  Most of the time, I like the hard way though.  I feel it builds character, the way I constantly root something down to its essence in order to reconstruct it my way.  It’s nice to know what the compositional choices are so you can make your own still life, since you know a roomful of artists are each going to sketch it a different way.  It’s the same with Swedish meatballs.  The first thing you must choose is the meat. 

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