Let’s go back to last Wednesday. After eight inches of snow fell during the day, Megin and I went to Club Sapphire in New York to do an interview on the Steppin’ Out Magazine Show with Chauncé Hayden. It was very interesting. Things got quite raunchy to put it mildly—as we discussed everything from massage parlors to sexual escapades involving my meatballs.

Yes I know, there will always be the double entendres following me wherever I go involving my meatballs—that just comes with the territory I guess? It was definitely not what I’m used to and definitely not for the kiddies. But I like to say that J.M. can appeal to all audiences.

On Thursday, not much happened. Hit the streets going to delis, pizzerias and Italian stores in the area, had some great visits with true paisans—several of which will be adding Johnny’s Meatballs to their product line. There’s nothing more satisfying than that.

Ok, Friday was a day I’d like to forget. I went to the mall at around 11:30 without having breakfast. Now right around 11:45-ish, I felt my blood sugar dropping as it often does, a sign (along with sudden crankiness) reminding me that’s it’s time to eat soon. What tantalizing choices the mall food court offers, so hard to choose! The choice I made was bad. Got a slice of pizza from a popular pizza franchise that I thought would be slightly more edible than anything else there. I’ve said it before, I hardly ever eat at franchises for the simple reason that the quality is never as good as a small, family-run eatery. But I was famished. There is this particular pizza chain that originated in Brooklyn back in the ‘50s that I always held to a bit of higher standard, but not anymore. When an original becomes a franchise—no matter what—it’s never like the original.

Take the “famous” hot dog spot that started in Coney Island and now has a myriad of international locations. Such expansion devalues the original in every case. Period. I’m sure Blimpie was better back in the ‘60s when it first opened in Hoboken, but now there’s nothing special about it. That’s why I’d rather go to a local mom and pop salumeria, where you know they’d never skimp on quality. See, they don’t have to live their lives calculating profits based on a massive scale of having their signature menu selections served from coast to coast. That’s why when I open up my meatball shop, to make sure things are done accordingly I will be in the kitchen. You can’t have that personal touch with 500 locations. A show like “Undercover Boss” exposes just what I’m talking about when a CEO of a McDonald-ized company gets too caught up in the corporate structure and grows out of touch with the heart of what made that business shine in the first place—the roots.

So anyway, I consumed this greasy slice of pizza and began feeling quite ill not too long after. I’ll spare the gory details of what happened next, but let’s just say it didn’t stay in my system very long and I found myself with a serious case of the chills and extreme weakness. I ended up going right to bed and slept for thirteen hours—with intermittent trips to the “backhouse” every now and then. My advice is twofold here: Eat at home before you go to the mall. Or, if you are going to eat out, do not eat IN the mall. There’s a reason I love places like White Manna in Hackensack. There isn’t one in every mall and airport. When there are so many, owned by different people, there’s no way that you can insure the standards set forth by the one in Hackensack. There’s a reason you can’t get a Geno’s or a Pat’s cheesesteak anywhere but at Geno’s or Pat’s—in Philly.

After my long slumber, I woke up feeling much better. I was 100% by noon after making myself some eggs in purgatory inspired by my pal Peter’s tantalizing facebook posting. By three, I was chopping and sautéing onions, getting them nice and caramelized to use in—yup you guessed it—Sunday meatballs and gravy.

Sunday was not like our typical day. Sure, we often have guests over, but today we dined with Warren Bobrow (food/photo journalist for njmyway.com and editor of food, wine and culture at Wild River Review). We talked, ate and drank some fantastic Birra Moretti La Rossa, which he so graciously brought over. You know what, it was just like any other Sunday! What a warm-hearted and knowledgeable gentleman he was. To see what Warren thought of my meatballs, check out his website: http://www.wildriverreview.com/wildtable