Lentil Veggie Burgers

May in Anchorage. The snow is mostly gone from the lowlands, patches of dirty white clinging to the north-facing hillsides like they're not ready to surrender. The Chugach Mountains still have their winter coat, white and indifferent above the city, but down here things are thawing. The birch trees are leafing out — that pale, almost-yellow green that lasts about two weeks before deepening into the real green of an Alaskan summer. I drove to Earthquake Park today and walked along the coastal trail and the air smelled like salt and mud and the particular freshness of a place that has been frozen for seven months and is finally, cautiously, breathing again.

I'm breathing too. Cautiously. Five weeks of leave, eight therapy sessions, and I'm starting to feel the edges of myself again — where I end and the job begins, a boundary I lost somewhere around year six of ER nursing and didn't notice was gone until I was on the floor. Dr. Reeves calls it "differentiation." I call it learning that other people's emergencies don't have to be mine once I leave the building. Simple concept. Took me ten years and a breakdown to learn it.

Angela came for dinner. I made sinigang na baboy — pork sinigang, the classic version, not Reynaldo's salmon adaptation. Pork ribs simmered in tamarind broth with tomatoes, daikon, string beans, eggplant, and kangkong — water spinach, which I found at the Asian grocery on Mountain View Drive, the same one Lourdes has patronized since 1985. The tamarind makes the broth sour in that specific, lip-puckering Filipino way that you either love immediately or learn to love, and there is no third option.

Angela didn't ask about the ER. She talked about James — they've been dating for a year now and she uses that voice, the one where the words are casual but the tone is not. I think he might be the one. I think Angela might actually be happy in the uncomplicated way that I have never managed to be, and I'm genuinely glad for her, and only a little envious, and the envy is small enough to ignore over sinigang.

We ate and talked and she left at nine and I washed the dishes slowly, deliberately, feeling the hot water and the soap and the weight of each pot. My therapist says grounding exercises can be anything that keeps you in the present. Washing dishes works. Cooking works better. The sourness of tamarind, the steam of the broth, the sound of a simmer — these are anchors. I'm collecting anchors. I need them more than I need the ER right now, and admitting that is its own kind of progress.

Some nights you need broth and sourness, and some nights you need to shape something with your hands — to press a mixture into a patty and trust that it will hold together, even when you’re not entirely sure you will. These lentil veggie burgers became that for me: warm, spiced, sturdy enough to pick up and bite into. There’s nothing uncertain about a burger that comes out of the oven golden and crisp-edged, and on the nights after the sinigang nights, that certainty is exactly what I needed.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups cooked regular green lentils*
1/2 medium yellow or white onion
3 cloves garlic, peeled
2 large eggs (optional*)
3/4 cup old-fashioned oats
1/3 cup fresh cilantro or parsley leaves
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 medium carrot, peeled and grated on a box grater
Up to 1/2 cup flour of choice, if needed (oat flour, all-purpose, etc.)
Avocado oil or extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing
8 buns of choice (hamburger buns, English muffins or flatbread), toasted
Sauce: Guacamole, Avocado Pesto, Avocado Dip, Green Goddess Tahini Dip, ketchup, mayonnaise or mustard
Greens: Lettuce, arugula or spinach
Add some crunch: Dill pickles, quick-pickled red onions, or thinly sliced radishes or cucumbers
Tomato slices

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a large, rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper for easy clean-up.
Drain and dry the lentils. Drain the lentils very well in a colander, then measure 2 1/2 cups and spread them across a lint-free tea towel or paper towels to help dry them (if you have extra lentils, reserve them for another use).
Process the aromatics. Cut the halved onion into a few slices before adding the onion and garlic cloves to the food processor. Pulse until the onions are roughly chopped, but no more.
Make the burger mixture. Add to the food processor: towel-dried lentils, eggs, oats, handful of herbs (optional), chili powder and cumin, salt and black pepper. Process until the mixture has the consistency of chunky hummus (err on the side of caution here). Stir in the grated carrot by hand.
Shape the patties. Divide the lentil mixture into 8 equal portions using about 1/3 cup each. Shape them into patties about 1-inch thick. (If your mixture is unmanageably wet to shape, stir in a couple of tablespoons of your flour of choice, or more as needed.)
Bake the burgers. Brush both sides of each patty generously with oil and place them on the lined baking sheet, leaving a few inches of space around each one. Bake until the patties are deeply golden on the outside, about 35 minutes, flipping halfway.
Assemble and serve. Toast your buns if you’d like. Top the lower bun with lettuce, if using, then a veggie burger patty, then spread a generous amount of guacamole or sauce on top. Top with crunchy condiments and tomato, and enjoy!
Store leftovers. Leftover burgers keep well, refrigerated, for 4 days. Or, freeze them in a freezer bag for up to 3 months (thaw in the microwave for about 1 minute or in a 400 degree oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until warmed all the way through).

Nutrition (per serving)

Lentil Veggie Burgers — Collecting Anchors, One Patty at a Time