We wanted hamburgers, dammit, but we were not allowed hamburger buns on this local diet. I have whole-wheat flour; in fact I made lumpy, leaden whole-wheat hot dog buns last August (with yeast). This time — no yeast; not local.
I was being perhaps unnecessarily zealous, making sure everything on the plate came from within 100 miles of Santa Venetia. Well, zealous sounds un-fun; we were having wa-a-ay fun.
So: A little leftover cooked rice. Some yogurt. A blender. I mixed these naive, comforting ingredients with a pinch of salt and a small handful of that wheat flour, and let it sit on the counter until the batter was bubbly. For good measure, I then tossed in an egg, and more wheat flour to absorb the extra squishiness. It sat a little while longer.
When Cranky got the griddle greased and hot and the burgers were nearing beautiful, pinky, juicy perfection, I poured four rounds of this funny, tender batter in my own buttered skillet. Yup. Pancakes. What the hey. They made fine "bookends" for our burgers, even if they kind of fell apart. The flavor was delightful, and I saved enough batter to fry up two more tomorrow, to eat with honey and butter.
So: Just so you know. The ketchup was homemade with local tomato sauce, honey, salt, chile flakes, garlic and a laurel leaf. I'm not sure I'll ever go back to commercial ketchup, it was so good and easy. And it doesn't have that galling clove oil flavor.
Also on the burger: griddled local onions.
Also on the plate (not shown): local coleslaw with homemade mayonnaise, yogurt, honey, blue cheese, salt and chile flakes and a squirt of vinegar.
I am SO tired of talking about local food.
But I am not tired of eating it.