healthy no-waste veggie burgers

I had a favourite brand of vegetarian burgers that I’ve been buying since we moved here - Woolworths’ Macro Vegetable and Chickpea burgers. $4 for a pack of four. A delicious bargain.

Since the COVID-19 chaos kicked off, these burgers have been nowhere to be seen in any of Hobart’s Woolworths. They may well still be available on the mainland - perhaps Tasmania simply doesn’t have the vegetarian population to justify shipping them down! And let’s face it, for the last five months, I’ve just been grateful that most of my preferred items have been available. Veggie burgers are easy enough to make from scratch!

In constant pursuit of my no-waste policy, and Tom’s adoration of our “burger and chips night”, an alternative burger was created from leftover cooked brown rice, vegetables and a can of black beans. They are, I am not exaggerating, the *best* burger I have ever made at home. Add all the fixins, a pile of golden oven-cooked chips and you’ll wonder why you’d ever bother going out for dinner at all. Which, let’s face it, many people cannot at the moment. This burger is for all of you.

No-waste veggie burgers

Makes at least 12, depending on size

350g leftover vegetables (I used frozen mixed vegetables defrosted in a little boiling water then drained)
500g leftover cooked rice
1 x 420g can black beans, drained
100g fresh breadcrumbs
3 tablespoons wholemeal plain flour
2 tablespoons garlic powder
Fresh herbs, as much as you like (I used basil, parsley, mint, rosemary and thyme)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

It couldn’t be simpler. Whack everything in a food processor, blitz until the mixture is pureed and the consistency of mince. You shouldn’t need to add any liquid at all, but you can add a splash of water or the bean liquid if it’s too dry and not coming together.

Wet your hands slightly and scoop out handfuls of the mixture and shape into patties. I use my egg rings to get them a fairly uniform shape and size (just spray the insides with cooking spray first).

You can either grill them straight away (if so, I would dust lightly with a little flour, depending on how wet the mixture is) or do what I do and freeze them in a large container with a layer of baking paper between them. I got 14 out of this mixture - two we ate straight away and I froze the remaining 12.

I cook them from frozen in a super hot oven (about 220 C), with the chips. The first side gets 20 minutes, then I take them out of the oven, flip them over and put them back in for 15 minutes. For the last five minutes, I usually put some cheese on top to melt and put them back in the oven for five minutes, together with the brioche buns (which I’ve usually had defrosting most of the day) to warm up.

This method gives the burger a nice crunchy exterior but the inside remains moist. I haven’t tried them on a barbecue yet but summer is just around the corner! I will report back.

“All the fixins?” I usually ask Tom at this point.

“Of course,” he responds.

So our burger fixins are - mayo, whatever relish or chutney I have open (this week it was the fiery apricot chutney I made in February), mustard, sauerkraut, baby spinach or rocket (or any salad leaves), pickled tomatoes, pickled chillies and a bit of basil pesto if there’s any kicking about. All piled on top of the burger in a (storebought) brioche bun. Sounds like a strange mixture but it’s all very delicious!

Enjoy!

write every damn day

As of this morning, I have done Morning Pages for 250 days straight!

I’d say the most noticeable impact it’s had has been on my confidence. When you consistently show up for yourself and do the thing that matters most to you each day, I’ve found the inner critic, while still alive and well, doesn’t have as much ammunition.

The whole routine/ritual around Morning Pages is now my favourite part of the day. And I am not a morning person!

A follower on Instagram asked if I had any advice on getting started and my response was just that - to start. Just begin and keep going, even if you think what you’re writing is rubbish - it will be, that’s the whole point. But after a month or so you’ll find yourself coming up with new ideas because all the muck has been cleared out. Or you’ll feel differently about something you’ve been stuck on. So start, and then persevere. And create a nice ritual around it too, like making tea or coffee, or having your favourite music playing.

I meditate first - I’m still going on my daily habit there too (since 2 May 2017!) - and then I put my AirPods in and select my favourite writing music. Most days it’s Ludovico Einaudi but other days it will be Beethoven or Bach I want to hear. Anything gentle. Then I pick up the pen, turn to a blank page and write for three pages. Often Tom will bring a coffee in while I’m writing and thanks to the noise cancelling headphones and being in the zone, I will barely notice!

And once the pages are done, I am free to get on with my morning. My writing work later in the morning, or later that day, is always better for having cleared the decks first thing.

The next step, at some point, will be to go through the Morning Pages books and see what themes keep appearing, what words and images I repeat, what is clearly uppermost in my mind. They are the clues to where I might go next on this creative journey.

Do you do Morning Pages? Or do you have a morning creativity ritual?

eavan boland: the lost art of letter writing

Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay 

THE LOST ART OF LETTER WRITING

The ratio of daylight to handwriting
Was the same as lacemaking to eyesight.
The paper was so thin it skinned air.

The hand was fire and the page tinder.
Everything burned away except the one
Place they singled out between fingers

Held over a letter pad they set aside
For the long evenings of their leave-takings,
Always asking after what they kept losing,

Always performing—even when a shadow
Fell across the page and they knew the answer
Was not forthcoming—the same action:

First the leaning down, the pen becoming
A staff to walk fields with as they vanished
Underfoot into memory. Then the letting up,

The lighter stroke, which brought back
Cranesbill and thistle, a bicycle wheel
Rusting: an iron circle hurting the grass

Again and the hedges veiled in hawthorn
Again just in time for the May Novenas
Recited in sweet air on a road leading

To another road, then another one, widening
To a motorway with four lanes, ending in
A new town on the edge of a city

They will never see. And if we say
An art is lost when it no longer knows
How to teach a sorrow to speak, come, see

The way we lost it: stacking letters in the attic,
Going downstairs so as not to listen to
The fields stirring at night as they became

Memory and in the morning as they became
Ink; what we did so as not to hear them
Whispering the only question they knew

By heart, the only one they learned from all
Those epistles of air and unreachable distance,
How to ask: is it still there?

- Eavan Boland

tomato, caper and mint spaghetti

Tom and I were watching a Rick Stein show where he was in Sicily. He didn’t cook this dish but mentioned a pasta he’d once enjoyed in Palermo, simply made with tomatoes, capers and mint. I’ve never managed to find a recipe for it anywhere, but it sounded so delicious I simply had to give it a try. And it was as amazing as it sounded.

That was a few years ago now and this is still one of our most favourite pasta dishes. Sometimes I’ll just say “Rick’s pasta?” to Tom when it’s getting close to dinner time, and his eyes light up!

It’s best made with long pasta - in the picture I think I’ve used fresh tagliatelle, but I’m particularly partial to linguine. You can add chilli - I sometimes do - but this pasta doesn’t even need Parmesan, truth be told. The capers are punchy and acidic, the mint is fresh and savoury, the tomatoes are sweet. It’s just glorious.

I hope you like it as much as we do!

Tomato, caper and mint spaghetti

Enough for 2, with room for dessert

250 g spaghetti (or any other long pasta)
Good quality extra virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, peeled but left whole
Roughly 250 g cherry tomatoes, or larger truss tomatoes, halved or quartered depending on size (use as much as you like, this is just a guide)
Roughly 5 tablespoons capers (from a jar) (and again, use as much as you like - we love capers so add about half the jar!)
1 small bunch fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
Salt and pepper

Put a stockpot of salted water on to boil and cook the pasta according to packet instructions or desired al dente-ness.

Get a large saute pan - I use my Le Creuset shallow casserole dish - and cover the base in olive oil, adding enough for the tomatoes to paddle in. Add the garlic cloves.

Place the pan on a medium heat and allow to heat slowly. Once you hear the garlic sizzling, carefully add the cherry tomatoes (I leave them whole, but you could halve them). Turn the heat down, put the lid on and allow the tomatoes to cook gently in the oil for about 10 minutes, roughly the same time it will take the pasta to cook. Check on them occasionally. You don’t want them to be mushy and breaking down too much, just soft.

You can remove the garlic at this stage if you prefer, but I usually leave it in. Add the capers to the tomatoes, and a bit of salt and pepper. You could also add a splash of white wine if you have any handy.

Once your pasta is ready, using tongs, carefully lift the cooked pasta out of the stockpot and into the tomato and caper pan. The water clinging to the pasta will help make a lovely sauce.

Once you have all your pasta in the tomato pan, turn up the heat slightly, add the chopped mint, and toss everything through with the tongs so that the pasta is completely coated in the tomatoes, capers, mint and oil. Everything should be beautifully combined. It shouldn’t be dry but if it is, add another splash of the pasta cooking water.

Season with salt and pepper to your taste.

Heap into waiting bowls and eat immediately - as if you’d want to do anything else!

I have made this with basil and parsley before when I only had a sad lone sprig of mint from my garden and it’s still delicious - but do make this with just mint at least once as it’s sublime. I just adore mint, it’s one of my favourite herbs and gives such a beautiful flavour to everything from salads and grilled vegetables to slices of grilled halloumi.

fig and ricotta cake

This autumn has been all about the quince, but last year it was all about the fig. There were a few figs getting jammier by the day on my parents’ tree and we needed to pick them before the possums got to them. I made a delightful pear and fig chutney, and this cake.

You can use any plain soft creamy cheese in place of the ricotta - I used half goats cheese and half ricotta, which worked splendidly.

I really loved this cake because it wasn’t too sweet and allowed the natural sweetness of the figs to shine through. My parents, who like things sweeter, weren’t that fussed - so by all means add more sugar if you have a similar palate!

Autumnal slightly savoury fig and ricotta cake

Based on a recipe in Books for Cooks Favourite Recipes 4, 5 and 6

2 tablespoons caster sugar
6 fresh ripe figs, stalks trimmed, cut in half
175 g unsalted butter
150 g caster sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
200 g ricotta (or a combination of ricotta and soft goats cheese)
2 large eggs
175 g plain flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
A little apricot jam, for glazing

Preheat the oven to 180 C (fan-forced). Grease and line a 24cm springform cake tin. Butter the baking paper on the base of the tin and sprinkle with the 2 tablespoons of caster sugar. Arrange the halved figs, cut side down, over the sugar.

Beat the butter, sugar, vanilla and ricotta (or other cheese you’re using) together until creamy and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Add the flour and baking powder and gently fold in.

Spread the batter carefully over the figs.

Bake in the oven until golden and a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean - roughly 40-45 minutes, depending on the strength of your oven. Leave to cool completely in the tin.

To decorate, turn out the cake on to a plate or stand, fig side up. Melt the apricot jam over a low heat until soft and liquid, then brush over the top of the cake. The figs will glisten beautifully.

You can dust the top with icing sugar once you’ve glazed too, but I didn’t.

Cut into slices and enjoy with a hot cup of tea.

My figs were quite little! Hope yours are bigger.