- 2 cups well-cooked white, black or red beans, or chickpeas or lentils, or 1 14-ounce can, drained
- 1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
- ½ cup rolled oats (preferably not instant)
- 1 tablespoon chili powder, or the spice mix of your choice
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 1 egg
- Bean-cooking liquid, stock or other liquid (wine, cream, milk, water or ketchup) if necessary
- Extra virgin olive oil or neutral oil, like grapeseed or corn.
1. Combine all ingredients except liquid and oil in food processor and pulse until chunky but not puréed. If necessary, add a little liquid for a mixture that is moist but not wet. Let mixture rest for a few minutes.
2. With wet hands, shape into patties and let rest again for a few minutes. (Burger mixture or shaped burgers can be covered tightly and refrigerated for up to a day. Bring back to room temperature before cooking.) Film bottom of a large nonstick or well-seasoned cast iron skillet with oil and turn heat to medium. When hot, add patties. Cook undisturbed until browned, about 5 minutes; turn carefully with spatula and cook 3 or 4 minutes until firm and browned.
3. Serve on buns with mustard, ketchup, chutney or other toppings.
Yield: 4 servings.
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Substitutions: I’ve made these black bean burgers a number of times and have never needed to use any additional cooking liquid. I skip the spices because I like to drench my burger in organic ketchup. Also, I find the mixture to be difficult to handle so I don’t form patties before cooking them. I like to spoon the mixture into the hot frying pan and shape a patty using a spoon. These burgers can be eaten with or without buns. When I use buns, I like to buy Trader Joe’s whole wheat hamburger buns.
About: In this follow-up to the excellent memoir Tender at the Bone, Reichl displays a sure hand, an open heart and a highly developed palate. As one might expect of a celebrated food writer, Reichl maps her past with delicacies: her introduction to a Dacquoise by a lover on a trip to Paris; the Dry-Fried Shrimp she learned to make on a trip to China, every moment of which was shared with her adventurous father, ill back home, in letters; the Apricot Pie she made for her first husband as their bittersweet marriage slowly crumbled; the Big Chocolate Cake she made for the man who would become her second, on his birthday. Recipes are included, but the text is far from fluffy food writing. Never shying from difficult subjects, Reichl grapples masterfully with the difficulty of ending her first marriage to a man she still loved, but from whom she had grown distant. Perhaps the most beautifully written passages here are those describing Reichl and her second husband’s adoption and then loss of a baby whose biological mother handed over her daughter, then recanted before the adoption was final. This is no rueful read, however. Reichl is funny when describing how the members of her Berkeley commune reacted to the news that she was going to become a restaurant reviewer (“You’re going to spend your life telling spoiled, rich people where to eat too much obscene food?”), and funnier still when pointing out the pompousness of fellow food insiders. Like a good meal, this has a bit of everything, and all its parts work together to satisfy.
