Grow a pair, sack up, and pretty much every other ball pun in the book, then get to Bernie Matz's (Bernie's LA, Books & Books) newest venture, The Meatball Joint: a cozy, mirror/subway-tile-walled, butcher shop-ish spot that slings scrumptious spheres pretty much any way you could imagine. Warning: you're about to read the word "balls" ~50 more times. How it works: first, choose your balls (that's one!) from the trio of Classic Italian (beef/pork/herbs/parm), low-fat South Beach (turkey/herbs/parm), and West Hollywood (eggplant/herb/parm), then decide whether you want 'em "solo" (four balls in either fire-roasted marinara, "fredo", or drunken mushroom sauce) or served under sides like waffle-cut sweet potato fries, spaghetti (duh), or creamy roasted corn 'n grits -- but not fish 'n grits, because that would make you a total Outkast. You can also go four balls (!) deep in a baguette sando w/ sauce & mozz, knock it down to three for a focaccia "Sammy," or go with sliders that smash one saucy guy on a mini challah bun with that marinara, 'shroom, or fredo sauce, enough of which will definitely break your heart. And there's no shortage of
balls booze: around 20 red/white vinos, tap micros, and bottles like Orange Blossom Pilsner, Cigar City Maduro Brown, Dogfish 60min IPA, and Victory Golden Monkey, which makes sense, as that species is always ready to go balls out.