I’m going to fess up right now: this recipe is a total everything-but-the-kitchen-sink meets I-have-no-vegetables-in-my-fridge recipe. We’ve all been there.
The trick is working with what you’ve got, and these burgers, on a scale of one to scrounge hound, beat out peanut butter Ramen noodles and Tapatio-butter rice (if you’ve been to college, you know exactly where the bar’s set). We’re taking beat out as in kick to the curb, hands down, any day.
Now that we’ve swallowed our daily dose of honesty, let’s get crackin’.
-one can of black beans
-quarter cup of blood (I used turkey blood)
-one tablespoon of barbecue sauce*
-one tablespoon mustard**
-pinch or two of salt
-three cloves of garlic (diced)
-quarter of an onion (if you’re lucky enough to have it, but remember, my kitchen is currently sans-veggie)
-half of a carrot (again, only the gifted ones who shop responsibly and often will be able to add carrot—don’t fret if you’re not among them, because you’re in good company)
-quarter cup of bread crumbs (we’ll revisit this later)
*Ketchup can be used instead of BBQ sauce.
**If you don’t have mustard, no one will drag you kicking and screaming out of the kitchen.
First, drain and wash the beans. Then add the blood, garlic, condiments, salt, bread crumbs, and vegetables (if you’re up on things). Add hot sauce if you’re feeling fierce.
Combine everything using a mashed potato masher. Forks take too long, and hands are pretty primal.
At this point I remembered that I forgot to add the breadcrumbs, then realized I have no bread crumbs, so I improvised with a piece of toast, plus a tablespoon of flour to help bind the burgers. Don’t be like me though; get those breadcrumbs in early.
Shape the mash into burger patties, and drop them into a hot pan with olive oil so they get a little seared, then crank the heat down. Cook ’em all the way through: no one who’ll like the amount of garlic in these burgers likes raw blood. Just sayin’.
In a perfect world, I’d serve these burgers on buns with lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, ketchup, and mustard. And a young version of Goldie Hawn would be dancing through the dining room, with Jimi Hendrix rippin’ on his guitar while my evil fifth-grade math teacher scrubbed the kitchen floor. But we don’t live in a perfect world, so the burgers I made were squirted with ketchup and mustard, slapped between two pieces of hot buttered bread, and Mr. Lynch was let off the hook (for now). But all in all, just-about-almost-perfect was darn spankin’ good in it’s own right.
Burger on my friends, burger on.