Words don’t always flow easily even for the most masterful of wordsmiths – I’m even losing a game of scrabble to my significant other. Still, the subtle irony present in prose regarding a lack of literary imagination is infinitely preferable to an awkward silence. Oh well, since these situations tend to remedy themselves I shan’t worry too much. Please enjoy my fibrous musings!
I like to think that most of the recipes and photos posted to this blog have a certain rustic charm to them. Of course, there is nothing wrong with this, but it comes rather too easily to me. Occasionally one must challenge oneself to break free of their expected roles – this is one of my infrequent flutters into the realm of ponce. Actually, let’s face it, I endeavour to spend most of my time as a pretentious so-and-so; this is my attempt to have my food join me.
I’m not entirely sure from where the idea to use fried bread came, but I remember liking it immediately. My capacity for picturing how a plate of food will look before it has actually reached that stage informed me that this would look really rather pleasing. Happily, for those around me, my cranium hasn’t yet swelled to the size at which self-doubt becomes impossible. As such, I wasn’t entirely sure that my aims would be accomplished, having never seen or heard of a recipe for such a feat. However, it happened to turn out perfectly, which is lucky since I tend to get rather frustrated when something goes awry – particularly when it comes to food preparation.
Whenever red lentils happen to pass my lips I get an urge to accompany them with the flavour of a citrus fruit, particularly that found in the common lemon. There is something about the two, which I find impossible to pinpoint, that goes incredibly well – they simply must be eaten together. So, instead of adding the lemon zest to the burger itself I mixed it with a little Greek yoghurt, thus succeeding in not disguising its taste even a little. The addition of the rocket pesto, posted only a few days ago, really set the dish of nicely, giving the burger the little kick it needed. Vegans may steer clear of the yoghurt and pesto! In fact, one may make only the lentil burgers if one so wishes.
Lentil Burger in Fried Bread with Citrus Yoghurt
Makes 7-8
Ingredients:
• 210g red lentils
• 100g bread crumbs
• 1 red chilli, finely diced
• 2 cloves of garlic, mashed
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp ground coriander
• Salt and pepper
• 1 egg, beaten
• 14-16 1-2cm thick slices of good quality white bread
• Olive oil
• 4 tbsp Greek yoghurt
• The zest of 1 lemon
Method:
1. Pop the lentils onto boil in a few inches of water, cook for 10 minutes until tender. To make the fried bread, which must cooled before eating, cut the crusts off your slices of bread, roll them out to the thickness of about 2-3mm, cut into circles using a rösti ring and gently fry in plenty of olive oil until golden brown. Save the left-over bread for bread crumbs.
2. When the lentils are tender, transfer them to a large mixing bowl, allow to cool for a few minutes. Add the garlic, chilli, cumin, coriander, salt, pepper and bread crumbs. Stir thoroughly before incorporating the egg. Shape the mixture into 7 or 8 little burgers using plain flour to keep them from sticking. Pop them in the fridge for 10 minutes – it is often best to make these in advance.
3. Fry each lentil burger in a little olive oil until golden brown on each side. To make the citrus yoghurt simply mix the yoghurt with the lemon zest. Plate up the burger with one piece of fried bread at the bottom, then a dollop of the yoghurt, then the burger itself, then a dollop of rocket pesto, then another piece of fried bread. Serve with optional potato wedges and handful of rocket leaves.
Cost: This dish really and truly makes for an incredible meal – it is so healthy and filling. Without the optional extras these burgers cost around £1.30 to make, adding the wedges and rocket adds only a little to this total. In my opinion this is ridiculously good since they would easily provide enough lunch for 7-8 people. Talk about pretentious frugality.
In recent weeks my Grandfather has developed a penchant for divulging a number of his favourite Clement Freud anecdotes. His favourite story concerns a trip Freud made to Mexico. Whilst in Mexico, Freud thought he would sample the delights of a true Central American Chilli, something he soon regretted. After ordering ‘six bottled of beer in quick succession’, Freud advised the chef that it may be best to warn visitors about the deadly speciality. The chef replied that ‘the ratio [of chilli to meat] was about one to one.’ Had Freud wanted his chilli with only a little spice the chef said that ‘there was an American place just down the road.’ I think it’s rather a humorous little tale, though perhaps you’ll disagree if you are an American. Anyway, a deep interest on the writings of Freud developed within, and I asked to borrow my Grandfather’s copy of ‘Freud of Food’. To my delight I discovered that my taste in humour shared an even closer affinity to that of Freud’s, when I discovered a section entitled, ‘Give The Wife A Break’.
The past couple of weeks really have been a soup filled fortnight in this frugal household. We have had three different types of soup and it is my honest opinion that the best has been saved for last. It has to be said that this soup, or broth, really benefits from the use of homemade chicken stock as it doesn’t have the rather salty taste that plagues shop bought stocks. This really allows one to control the seasoning of one’s dish, as one expects to be able to do. Indeed, so besotted have I become with the art of stock making that I think I shall soon post more recipes.
As I’ve already posted an extremely delicious Beef Chilli I thought it would be best to share my recipe for the vegetarian version. To be honest it must be admitted that over the past couple of weeks I’ve fallen off the band wagon of health, so my next few posts shall be dedicated to rectifying this relapse. I think it’s the shock of doing lots of shifts in work that has forced me into my old and particularly sordid ways. However, autumn food is generally of the sort that can be cooked in advanced and left on the stove for heating up and or dipping into – which is why it is also some of my favourite.