You may not think these combined ingredients earn the title of “burger”, with good reason. You may say they’re more fittingly called ‘patties’, as they probably are. The difference is often subtle but we all recognize it intuitively. And actually, the original source of this recipe refers to them as ‘cakes’. But never mind. They may be little more than zesty, healthy homemade refried beans held together with a light, almost crispy coating, but what respectable fan of refried beans wouldn’t devour that in burger form?
Sometimes I feel twinges of guilt that little F has not experienced meat in his three years and three quarters life. Despite the fact that I am wholeheartedly behind our family’s reasons for our plant-based kitchen, there are moments I feel like I’m somehow misleading him. Food is as full of nostalgia as it is fuel.
The other week, while grocery shopping, I heard a startled gasp as little F suddenly pointed at a package of red meat. “Red worms, ewwww!” he cried. Later that same day, we had a new sitter come to the house while I worked upstairs, and I got to listen in on the giddy fun of their engaging conversations. Little F had taken to her immediately, resulting in the sort of giddy, wild “showing off” that is funny, silly, and borderline overly rambunctious. They were playing kitchen, and I heard the sitter (who happens to be vegan) ask, “Do you like burgers?” as she picked up the plastic replica. “Sometimes,” little F answered. “Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re yucky, like poo poo yucky.”
It was fun eavesdropping just a bit, and a little thought-provoking, too. I wondered, why didn’t little F treat Ms. Andrea to the same lecture-style response he has given both his grandmothers (e.g., “we don’t eat cow’s milk, Ammy”, or “maybe butter is kind of gross, Nanny”)? And then I thought, oh yeah…he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what a typical burger, hot dog, or even pizza is. He even makes a point of clarifying during imaginative play that his misbehaving animal friends are eating “tofu poo poo” when they indulge in excrement.
I don’t want our sweet boy growing up feeling like he is missing out, or developing issues around diet, forbidden foods, and power of choice. Hopefully we will keep on figuring out ways that feel right for sharing different ideas and options, showing respect for his evolving choices and keeping the conversation going. It does ease those creeping anxious moments when I can remind myself how satisfying and yummy the burgers we do make are.
This recipe came from the amazing Dr. Neal Barnard’s Get Healthy, Go Vegan Cookbook; the only changes I made were to add some walnuts and swap out some of the bread crumbs (which I’m assuming could easily be gluten-free) with quinoa flakes for the coating. As shared in the cookbook, these pair beautifully with a simple mango salsa (even better, with mango and pineapple salsa that combines a little finely chopped red pepper and scallions with a splash of lime juice, honey, and a pinch of cayenne). They’re also a superb match for most of your favorite traditional burger toppings. Almost as easy to prepare as a portobello mushroom burger too, and completely free of tofu, poo poo, red words, or anything sometimes yucky or maybe kind of gross. 😉
- ½ cup mild salsa
- 2 tsp ground cumin
- 2 15-ounce cans black beans, rinsed and drained
- 1 cup bread crumbs
- ¼ cup ground walnuts, optional
- 3 scallions, thinly sliced
- ¾ cup quinoa flakes
- Preheat oven to 200 F. COmbine the salsa, cumin, black beans and walnuts in a food processor and pulse until smooth. Transfer to a mixing bowl and add bread crumbs, scallions, salt and pepper.
- Divide mixture into small patties, roughly ¼ cup each. Dredge patties in quinoa flakes and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes (alternatively, you can chill mixture in bowl and form into patties later.
- Heat a nonstick large skillet over medium heat. Using cooking spray saute approximately 3 minutes per side, gently turning. Place on a baking sheet and keep warm in the oven until all patties are prepared. Great served with mango and pineapple salsa or your favorite burger fixings.
It’s Earth Day week, and I had this idea of concocting some kind of richly earthy sort of stew I hadn’t made before. Just thinking of it, I couldn’t quell the word umami from resonating in my head with deep, ringing tones. Something about umami; if Yoda was a taste, umami would he be.
Featured in this stew, there would have to be brown lentils, mushrooms, burdock root…that last one mainly because I only just discovered its existence last fall when I tested out a recipe that included it for Yoga Journal, and it seems to epitomize earthiness with a sort of mysticism attached. So, there was an ingredients list. Then, not even halfway through the week I decided to chuck it, for now.
Actually, so fat I don’t like burdock root. This may well change, easily, depending on what I learn about amazing benefits like blood purification and lymphatic system strengthening that I can’t possibly get anywhere else. But for now, I’m just not a huge fan of the sinewy woodiness, or the fact that the earthiness is really actual earth. And the brown, knobby lumpiness of my ingredients seemed more suitable for a witch’s bubbling cauldron than my envisioned rustic family dinner honoring Earth Day.
Instead we’re relishing something light and bright and fresh that sings spring that I originally made for Ancient Harvest. You can vary the vegetables, the amounts, the herbs. You can load up the veggies and still savor a light yet satisfying meal. I love the way the pesto makes the flavors pop.
I may have mentioned before, lately I’ve been driving myself a little more batty than usual in my personal quest to expand knowledge. Instead of really challenging myself and poring over, say, financial journals or exploring other areas outside of my comfort zone, I’ve been diving headlong into more of what am already interested in, was already reading/watching/listening to. Foremost, that’s food and nutrition. Lately, lagging just a hair behind, toxins in our environment. It’s not the healthiest thing, going further and further into the abyss that is all the ugly, greedy, and despicable in the world and repeatedly reinforcing how little we can do about it.
But at least there is always a little we can do. And if there is anything worth taking little, or any size, steps for, it’s our planet. We only have one.
Different people need different diets, and few things are as off-putting as people assuming they’re due some kind of applause for theirs. But no one argues with the power of produce, and the significant impact such a delicious choice can make on personal health and the health of the whole planet. This week, of all weeks, it feels especially good to love seasonal vegetables. Happy Earth Day!
- 1 cup quinoa, any variety
- 1/4 cup olive oil, divided
- 1 leeks halved lengthwise and thinly sliced (white and light green portions)
- 2 medium carrots, diced
- 3 cups low sodium vegetable broth
- 3 cups water
- 8 asparagus spears, trimmed and cut diagonally in approximately 1-inch pieces
- 1 1/2 cups kale leaves, ribs removed and chopped
- 1 cup cooked navy or white cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
- 1 cup fresh or frozen corn
- 1 cup torn basil leaves
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 cup walnuts
- 3 cloves garlic
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Cook quinoa according to package directions and set aside.
- Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add leek and carrots sweat 3-4 minutes.
- Add vegetable broth and water and bring to a low boil. Add asparagus, peas, kale, beans and corn. Cook 5-7 minutes, until asparagus is tender.
- Prepare the pesto: place basil, lemon juice, pine nuts, garlic, and remaining olive oil in a food processor and pulse until smooth.
- Stir in quinoa and half of the pesto. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring, 5 minutes. Thin to desired consistency with extra water as needed. Salt and pepper to taste.
- Ladle into bowls and serve with remaining pesto spooned on top.
So here’s a quick and simple salad that’s light and fresh and as buoyantly colorful as this past week has been. While it may not exactly be seasonal, it tastes like this warm and vibrant spring week has felt. Sweet with a pleasant tang.
I wanted to stick this up early in the week as something to come back to, but I kept dragging my feet. While the justification of being too busy is true and valid, it wasn’t really truth, I realized. The real issue was, I didn’t have a story to attach. No pensive reflection stirred by the sumptuousness of mango or the bite of lime. Even knowing the whole purpose of this whole blog is really a catalog, I guess I’m attached to the journal aspect. It feels like cheating, or failing, not to be bursting with thought guided by ingredients.
This is in its way a little ironic, as I’ve been striving so hard to cultivate more mindfulness. It’s been a slowly emerging, beautifully enlightening process, if but snail steps. And the most treasured part, embracing peaceful gratitude for each moment for just what it is. Why then so much hesitancy to share something with no purpose other than saying appreciatively, here is something rather nice?
On that note, I don’t usually feel drawn to “here’s what happened this week” kind of posts, but this week has been rather rainbow lovely. The most perfect moments were the simplest and the most vivid, in both the actual colors present and the still life style peace of them. They were composed of the kind of little things that relax you into breathing more deeply and seeing more wholly.
Little F and I shared the best “egg decorating” yet.
And on Thursday, my boys melted and swelled my heart with the most beautiful, quiet birthday day. After a perfect early morning run with a friend, the day opened with the sweetest card depicting our little family team.
I can’t pretend there’s a connection between this salad and this week aside from brightness and color. Except for this: each is worth a little appreciation and a place in a catalog, literal or mental. The other somewhat ironic thing about working so concertedly on mindfulness is how heightened a certain distrust has been of enjoying the perfection of the moment. There’s an inherent fear of being too happy. It only makes sense. Nothing lasts, good or bad. But time to let that go a little.
Today, I was immersed in imaginative play with little F when he suddenly flopped on his back in a way reminiscent of when he was a little baby. “Cover me, Mommy,” he said sweetly, arms open and puppy eyes beseeching. Sometimes he likes me to do that–pretend flop on him like a blank, “covering” him. It won’t last long, and as I bundled him up, reveling in that moment, I couldn’t stop the nagging voice from saying so. But oh am I enjoying it now, in spite of nagging busybody “just you wait” warnings in my head. So I’m sticking the moment here in this post–which has (surprise) taken on tangents it didn’t need to. So I can take heart that I’m doing my best to remember, and get back to being with gratitude.
Have a very bright and happy weekend!
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons lime juice
- 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
- 1-2 tablespoons honey to taste
- 2 teaspoons white miso paste
- salt and pepper to taste
- 3 cups spinach
- 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced and then sliced across to make 1" long pieces
- 1-2 ripe mangos, diced
- 1 cup frozen shelled edamame, thawed
- 1 large carrot, peeled and cut into matchsticks or shred
- 2-3 thinly sliced green onion (both green and white parts)
- ⅓ cup chopped roasted peanuts
- ¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
- In a small bowl, whisk the first six ingredients (oil through salt and pepper) until thoroughly combined.
- Mix all remaining ingredients in a large salad bowl. Add dressing and toss to coat just before serving.
I’m proud of this recipe especially because I didn’t create it. It may not be the most original concept, and I can’t even honestly say that the list of ingredients is accurately detailed as we combined them…twice now with a third visibly on the horizon. In fact, those two separate batches were both eyeballed so certainly created with similar but different quantities, for everything. That’s what made the making of it so without any detriment to taste whatsoever, and this is all coming out wrong. What I really mean to say is, this isn’t my recipe but I love it sooo much more for that, because it’s Felix’s. There are countless versions out there that differ in subtle or no ways at all, but little sous chef is 3 ½, and he doesn’t know that.
“Mommy, can we please, please, please make hot chocolate rice pudding?” Little F asked one unusually chill, wet day. That’s how this began. “We can try,” I told him. “What steps do you think we’ll need?” Little F cocked his head to the side thoughtfully and responded confidently, “Make hot chocolate and put rice in it!” And that is pretty much what we did. Cooked brown rice, almond and coconut milk, vanilla, a scoop of dark chocolate, bit of cocoa powder, a splash of pure maple syrup and a dash of cinnamon. It was a playful and exquisite process with a product to match.
There is a part of me, a very large part, that cannot believe that when I tell you little F is 3 ½ I’m talking years not months. Daily, we’re navigating tumbling seas that are speckled with tormented tantrums pulsing with unimaginable fury so encompassing they can bowl us over and force us to swallow a bit of guilty laughter at the same time. Interspersed are these magical, enchanting rainbows of wonder and discovery that lend lightness to the soul even as wrinkles and gray hairs are etched by the trying back and forth. And underlying everything, for this very fleeting moment, we’ve had a clingy, uncertain phase that means lots of cherished, fiercely loving cuddles alongside stacks of jobs undone until exhaustingly late.
Tantrums, clinging, and even the wondrous energy of exploration–all tough at times. Sometimes really hair-pulling hard. And always painfully bittersweet in how short-lived we know them to be. So it’s easy to say with 100% certitude, even in the most intense heat of the most tempestuous fit, on some level I am always grappling with some grief over the necessary drift that is happening right now. The one where my little sidekick steadily becomes his own leading action hero and we fade, cheering, into the background.
Luckily, there is never enough time in this season we’re in to dwell too much on what’s next, what’s going wrong, who might be judging, etc. Even better, that drift so far is brimming with steady gems that sparkle as if to say, savor this and trust in the journey.
They are little things, mostly. Reassurances that parceled in with all the budding independence comes blooming, shared pride offered with the greatest of love. They are in the cheeky, sparkly-eyed, shyly winsome way a little person tells you one day, sitting naked on the toilet, “Maaaaybeee I gonna just use the potty now, no more pull-ups.” Or when that same little person guides you on a nature hike of his own devising, one that winds around according to “my plan” and incorporates a variety of mystery animal poop shapes, sizes and colors that he had taken note of and remembered. And when an idea pops into his head for creating something so simple, wholesome, and actually scrumptious you just want to make it week after week both for the pleasure of it (because it’s indeed yummy!) and for the memory of how much you want to take a giggling bite out of him.
(By the way, I am sorry and a little embarrassed to mention poop not just once but actually twice in the same post, and one that is meant to be about a snack that happens to be brown at that. At the same time, it just feels appropriate. It’s all as it should be, the push-pulls what they need to be, and it’s good.)
- 1 cup short-grain brown rice
- 3 cups unsweetened almond coconut milk (or equivalent combination of almond and/or coconut milks)
- 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- ¼ cup maple syrup
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- ⅓ to 1/2 cup dark chocolate chips according to taste
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- Bring 1 1/2 cup water and rice to a boil over high heat. RCover, and reduce to a slow, steady simmer for approximately 40 minutes.
- Add almond coconut milk(s), stirring well, and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to low and allow to cook until pudding has thickened, 20-25 minutes, stirring at regular intervals.