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All posts tagged carrot

Roasted Carrot Onion Soup with Dukkah Spice

roasted carrot onion soup with dukkah spice | foodloveswriting.com

I don’t know about you guys, but, for me, the days that follow Thanksgiving are, no contest, the least inspired days, cooking-wise, all year long. Read more…

Quinoa Black Bean Burgers

my quinoa black bean burger

This past Saturday was my favorite kind of day: we had no plans, no place we had to be, no major to-do lists—and, at least for someone with my personality and temperament, I am finding days like this are crucial. Spending 24 hours at a leisurely pace, the kind where you stroll around the Franklin farmers market, fall asleep for two hours on the sofa, hold your husband’s hand as you walk up and down the block before the sun sets is just the ticket to helping yourself slow down, be still and feel thankful. Seriously, this Saturday was so good, it was almost like being in Hawaii again. Oh and also, there were these quinoa black bean burgers.

black beans + quinoa

I got the idea to make black bean burgers last week and, after pinning five or six recipes that caught my eye, I put together a version that combined their ideas and added some of my own. Using bulk-bin organic beans and quinoa, I had to soak them the night before, but once that step was taken care of, the process was pretty easy: cook the beans, cook the quinoa, saute a heap of veggies and spices; combine everything in a food processor; form into patties; saute or bake and bam! I’ll just cut to the chase and tell you: we loved these quinoa black bean burgers.

garlic, onion, celery, carrot, pepper

Price-wise, you can’t beat them: for under $7, you get eight homemade patties, some of which can easily be frozen for later. Nutrition-wise, they’re incredible: filled with the whole-foods protein and nutrients of beans, quinoa, veggies and spices. And taste-wise: I seriously can’t believe non-meat burgers can pack so much savory flavor into every bite. They’re even wonderful on their own, sans bun or toppings, eaten like little quinoa black bean cakes, reminiscent of fried green tomatoes or potato pancakes in their crispy exterior and hot, soft insides.

quinoa veggies + black beans

black beans and veggies

I wonder if it will be strange to tell you that what I think most when I look back at these pictures and this recipe is that I’m thankful? Thankful that these burgers came on a much-needed day of rest wherein I sat still long enough to notice my good gifts—gifts like longer daylight in the month of March, the kind of daylight that expands my days and makes it easier to work or cook or, as on Saturday, go for long strolls in the neighborhood; gifts like my kind and thoughtful husband who goes on those walks with me, who works alongside me, who talks to me about every single thing on my mind and who surprises me with tangible demonstrations of love like homemade chocolate souffles before we go to bed on Saturday night (!).

pan-fried quinoa black bean cakes

Because the fact is, I am too quick to forget how much I need to rest. Too quick to think I don’t have time for a free day with nothing planned. Too quick to try and squeeze in more work hours, knock out another project, feel the weight of responsibilities no one has mounted on my shoulders but me.

quinoa black bean burgers quinoa black bean burgers

And so, because they came on the restful, peaceful Saturday that I didn’t know how much I needed, because they helped me stop to savor the good, because they represent the joy of trying a new recipe with no time constraints and the pleasure of sitting down to eat with the person you share life with every day, I love these quinoa black bean burgers even more than how good they tasted and more than the migraine-preventing, protein-packed power of quinoa or the digestion-benefiting, blood-sugar-regulating abilities of black beans.

quinoa black bean cakes

The day after I made them, I read Matthew 11:28, where Jesus says to “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” I read that and thought, I am so glad He does.

May you enjoy these–and rest!–as we did, sometime very soon.

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a word of advice

comforting carrot soup

If you don’t want anything in your life to change, say, for example, your food stereotypes?

Don’t read this book.

Because if you do, one chapter in, you might start saying things like, Maybe I could like mushrooms! Or fish! Or pickles! And so you will, try some of those things, I mean, after a lifetime of not, and you won’t hate them, not even a little, and you’ll suddenly see an entire world of menus and restaurant options that you’ve always overlooked, and, really, everything will change.

Now the second thing (which could seem unrelated): If you buy a birthday present six months early, don’t, please, make that present be for me.

Because if you do, you could be talking to me one night, about something simple like what what you did that day, while I eat forkfuls of tender pot roast and whipped mashed potatoes, and just randomly, I’ll tell you, You know, I think I’m going to buy a Le Creuset French oven next week, and you won’t be able to hold it in, that you bought me one, so within minutes, I’ll be opening the big box, uncovering the cream-colored, beautiful, beautiful cast-iron pot inside, ruining the surprise. And I will have to make something in it, right away.

(While we’re talking about my Le Creuset, which my wonderful plan-ahead mom had planned to give me in August, I may as well show you a picture:)

lucy le creuset

Isn’t she lovely? I’m thinking of naming her Lucy.

Anyway, the pot isn’t really the purpose of this post—I just really like talking about it—but the thing I made inside the pot is: creamy, comforting carrot soup.

This soup is the kind of recipe I would normally pass on: its primary ingredient is a vegetable, carrots, no less. I mean, you know that I like carrots in a French slaw, but in soup? A lot of times, soups tend to concentrate flavors, strengthening their power, which, if we’re honest, could be the very last thing you’d want to happen to carrots.

However. This soup is good. Like, insanely good. So much so that I am completely and totally happy it was the first thing Lucy made (that sounds weird, now reconsidering the name thing). It is creamy and sweet, comforting on your throat and your stomach. You’ll recognize the earthy taste of carrot, but along with it are hints of spicy clove and punches of sauteed onions and garlic.

I ate two bowls of this soup, right away. It’s wonderful with swirls of cream and bits of chopped parsley on top, where each fragrant, colorful bite dissolves on your tongue and sends warmth through your body. It’s healthy, as the recipes have been this week, but, more importantly, it’s delicious, and, really, that kind of change is worth finding, anytime.




Carrot Soup
Adapted from Bon Appetit, May 1996

Ingredients:
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1 pound carrots, peeled, sliced
1/2 large onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled
3 whole cloves
2 cups (about) canned chicken broth, stock (or water or vegetable stock)
1/2 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Pinch of sugar

1/8 cup chilled whipping cream
Chopped fresh parsley

Directions:
Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add carrots, onion, garlic and cloves, and sauté until onion is translucent, about 8 minutes. Add 1 1/2 cups broth. Cover and simmer until carrots are very soft, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

Remove cloves from broth and discard. Puree soup in batches in blender (or with stick blender in pan). Return soup to same saucepan. Mix in lemon juice and sugar. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Thin to desired consistency with more broth. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

Whisk cream in medium bowl just until slightly thickened, about 10 seconds.

Stir soup over medium heat until heated through. Ladle into bowls. Drizzle cream over. Top with parsley. Serves 3 to 4.