Little Quinoa Patties

February is the ugliest month in Oklahoma. January at least has the dignity of being properly cold. February can't decide — some days it is forty degrees and almost hopeful, other days it is twenty-two and icing the roads and the pipeline crew stands around in the gray morning deciding whether to try to work or to go home and wait it out. We tried to work most days this week and regretted it on two of them. Ice on the fitting threads. Rod that won't strike properly in the cold. The particular frustration of doing difficult work badly because the conditions will not cooperate.

I brought Danny the braised venison shoulder and hominy cakes Sunday, as promised. He was having a better day — the new blood pressure medication seems to have leveled out, or he has adapted to it. He was sitting up at the kitchen table when I came in, which is better than the recliner. Terry had made coffee and there was a radio on in the kitchen playing something country that Danny was pretending not to listen to.

He ate the venison slowly, the way he eats everything now, and when he got to the hominy cakes he stopped and looked at them and then looked at me and said, "Where did you learn to make these?" I told him Hannah's workshops, the traditional preparation, the Cherokee food sovereignty curriculum. He picked up a piece of the hominy cake and held it for a moment and said, "My mother made something like this." Then he put it down and ate it and did not say anything else about it.

I did not push. Some memories you watch a man approach from the side, and when he gets close you let him be close without asking him to explain it. His mother is gone. His mother's kitchen is gone. The food is not gone, because Hannah is teaching it and I am learning it and Kai is eating it and Luna will eat it. That is what happened in that kitchen on a February Sunday: something got handed down that almost did not get handed down at all, and nobody had to say so for it to be true.

The hominy cakes I brought Danny that Sunday came from Hannah’s curriculum, from a preparation I’ve been practicing slowly and imperfectly for two seasons now. But the shape of them — the flat, pan-fried cake you pick up and hold for a moment before eating — is older than any recipe written down anywhere. These little quinoa patties are not hominy cakes, and I would not pretend they are. But they are made the same way a person makes something humble and good: grain bound together, shaped by hand, set in a hot skillet until they hold. If you are learning to cook food that matters, this is a place to start practicing the patience that kind of cooking requires.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4 (makes about 8 patties)

Ingredients

2 cups cooked quinoa, cooled
2 large eggs, beaten
1/3 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour (or chickpea flour)
2 green onions, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 tablespoons olive oil or neutral oil, for pan-frying

Instructions

Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine the cooked quinoa, beaten eggs, Parmesan, flour, green onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Stir until everything is evenly incorporated. The mixture should hold together when pressed — if it feels too wet, add flour one tablespoon at a time.
Shape the patties. Using your hands or a 1/4-cup measure, scoop the mixture and form it into patties roughly 3 inches across and 1/2 inch thick. Set them on a plate or parchment-lined sheet as you go. You should get about 8 patties.
Heat the skillet. Warm 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet (cast iron works well) over medium heat until shimmering. Do not rush this step — a properly heated pan is what gives the patties their crust.
Pan-fry the patties. Working in batches to avoid crowding, cook the patties 3 to 4 minutes per side, pressing gently with a spatula, until deep golden brown and set through. Add the remaining oil between batches as needed.
Drain and rest. Transfer finished patties to a paper-towel-lined plate and let them rest for 2 minutes before serving. They will firm up slightly as they cool.
Serve. Serve warm as a side dish or light main. Good alongside braised meats, roasted vegetables, or with a simple fried egg on top. A dollop of sour cream or plain yogurt pairs well.

Nutrition (per serving, 2 patties)

Little Quinoa Patties — The Cakes That Carry a Memory Forward