Spicy Black Bean Patties, Motherfucker!

I like cooking a lot, which you would never guess by how little I cook. Also, by cooking, I of course mean looking over a recipe with thin eyes while wiping your hands on a towel and mumbling seasoning ingredients as if you’re trying to recite the incantation that brings back the dead.

But I don't cook extravagant meals for myself. When I come home from work, I’m tired and I don’t feel like spending two hours in the kitchen when I could be reading/writing/doing anything else. I’m fine with a less intricate meal and I’ve long given up trying to impress myself (I know my every move!). This is why I make tacos three nights a week (and because, holy shit, tacos are the best, people). Other nights are sandwiches or some rice thing, or, if I’ve had a rough day, maybe breakfast for dinner (I like to think I can change time to reverse my earlier mistakes).

So I should probably rephrase. I really like cooking for other people, specifically a woman, since if I cook, say, the dankest French Onion Soup ever made, I can show up tipsy to her niece’s birthday party the following week and still get off with a simple eye-roll and not a lecture (SORRY I HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF YOUR ENTITLED NIECE, LAURA).

Anyway, as cliche as it sounds, my mother is the best cook I know. The lady can make everything from a quesadilla that a pothead would worship to a gourmet pear crisp that would fuck up some socialite’s tea party brain. Also, my brother recently took a turn away from a history degree to move swiftly into the culinary arts. He’s been making everything around my parents’ house from scratch, including bread and mead. And, me, well, I just like shit-talking.

So the three of us, over afternoon beers at Haven in Orange, decided to do a cooking competition. The challenge: veggie burgers.

Well, finally, last night, I went to my parents’ house and the five of us ate what three of us cooked. My mother did a bean-oatmeal-carrot combo patty and my brother did a sort of potato cake with tofu tartar sauce. Me, I did spicy black bean patties with queso fresco. And guess what? I'll give you (my version of) the recipe right now.

WHAT YOU NEED:

• 1 can of black beans
• 1/2 green bell pepper
• 1/2 white onion
• 3 cloves of garlic
• 1 egg (or 1 box of egg replacer)
• 1 tablespoon of chili powder
• 1 tablespoon of cumin
• 1 teaspoon of hot sauce
• 1/2 cup of bread crumbs
• 1 package of queso fresco

WHAT YOU DO:
1. Drain and rinse a can of black beans (with similar care as if you were wiping your fingerprints off a gun). Mash them into a paste like they were eighth grade bullies. Does it look like you just beat the shit out of some black beans like some mouthy cartoon? Great. Put it, like your differences, aside, because it’s not over and you’re pretty goddamn stupid if you thought it was.

2. Chop the hell out of the bell pepper, the onion, and them three cloves of garlic. Put that shit in a food processor. Blend on pulse to a hip-hop beat. Is it finely chopped but not yet a weird sensual liquid? Good. Take that delicious smelling jumble of peppers, onions, and garlic, and stir it right into those fucked up black beans. Blend until their tasty flesh becomes one.

3. Fill a bowl with one tablespoon of cumin, one tablespoon of chili powder, and then add one teaspoon (or more) of hot sauce. Personally, I went with a chipotle pepper sauce because I don’t play by the rules. If you don’t add hot sauce here, you’re kind of a bitch and you should feel bad about it.

4. Get an egg out. Or, if you’re me, stir together 1 teaspoon of egg replacement powder and stir it with two tablespoons of warm water. Now that you have whatever the hell you have, mix it into the bowl of spices and hot sauce. Make that a loosey-goosey paste and promise yourself that you'll never use the phrase "loosey-goosey" again. With said paste, stir it right into the pepper/onion/garlic black bean mix. Stir it like you’re getting to second base for the first time.

5. What’s that? It smells fucking delicious? You’re goddamn right it does, but it’s not over (though this time it’d be acceptable to think you were close to the end). Now that you're freaking out about how great everything is going, drop in that thing of bread crumbs and pulverize it until you feel emotionally stable again.

6. Preheat your oven to 375 degrees and lightly oil a baking sheet, or use PAM to spray it down like you’re doing a quick graffiti.

7. Take the bowl of terrific-smelling nonsense and form some patties with your hands. Place it on the baking sheet and put it in the oven. Bake each side from 10 minutes (making it 20 minutes in total, Einstein).

8. Once done, while still hot, add some queso fresco on top and let it melt just a bit. Do whatever the hell you want now. This could be adding it to a bun with hamburger ingredients, or it could mean getting freaky with mad hot people because you just made something truly delicious and mad hot people love when you do that. Seriously, you better find a place for all those party invitations you're about to get, ya handsome/beautiful chef.

So that's it. I made that, and it was delicious. Also, the patties my mother and brother made were downright incredible. We ended up deciding against winners. We're just going to do a Sunday evening cooking competition every three weeks or so. And I never thought I'd say this, but watch out for more recipes on this blog. It's going to be like Pinterest with a drinking problem up in here.