A daunting recipe for hamburger and rice

This recipe, well, I'd put it off for months. I hate meatloaf (more on that at a later date), and this dish appeared to be basically that. Plus, there was the fame factor; this pile of meat and rice was the favorite recipe served by my paternal grandmother, so much so that it earned the ultimate accolade: "There will be no leftovers."

When to make it? Who to serve it to? What to serve it with? These were all thoughts that had been bubbling over the past months, as I put off attempting this dish. The answers would be: 1. When you're feeling sick and want something comforting. 2. Your partner who will be kind and eats literally anything you serve. 3. Arugula with the lemon vinaigrette you've been making forever, because it's perfect.

But before we get there: I wanted more info on the history of this particular meal. I mean, it's name, "Hamburger with Rice," didn't give away much. it wasn't exactly seeping in information from the name. Similar arrangements of ingredients have a heavy presence on the type of websites devoted to easy, family-friendly recipes. This certainly didn't have the feel of something you'd find in a modern-day cookbook; rather, it's the kind of dish that I can imagine would have fit comfortably in a '70s style book devoted to 30-minute meals. So I reached out to my Aunt Madonna, the family historian, for any details she might remember about its origin. "I don't know the genesis, but anything with rice or noodles or macaroni would've been thrifty and filling and could be made in large quantity for a big family," she wrote. "It was a favorite. I've attached a copy of an e-mail Danny once sent. I agree with his assessment that her home-canned stewed tomatoes probably made it better. She sometimes bought fresh ground beef from a farmer and that added flavor, too. She might not have used onions because there were finicky kids in our house, but on the other hand, she didn't cater to likes or dislikes; you ate what she put on the table or you didn't.

So it was a dish of resourcefulness, as I suspected! Indeed, this mountain of a recipe, visually and metaphorically, requires very few ingredients. After work one night, I picked up ground beef, the "medium large" onion, the Carolina white rice. I paused at the DelMonte Original Recipe Stewed Tomatoes; what my bodega had available were a lot of spiced versions, so I went with basic Hunt's. (Sorry!) An even bigger challenge came with the tomato juice; I don't know when I've ever purchased tomato juice. As a kid, my dad always had clamato juice in the fridge, a fact I am sorry to share with you because I'm sure you will think it's disgusting, but that's as far as my expertise in the area stretches, seeing as I hate Bloody Marys on concept alone. I spotted some organic carrot juice, but nothing that looked liked good tomato juice, which was amazing, considering how many versions of tomatoes you can buy in a can: diced, crushed, whole, paste, sauce. The only real options were Campbell's tomato juice (FROM CONCENTRATE, a term I did not understand was bad as a child but now associate with evil), and V8. V8 is most stuck in my craw because of the many commercials dedicated to it that aired in the '90s. Are people still drinking V8? According to the several varietals in front of me, they are.

Anyway, after perusing the labels and taking up too much space in a crowded aisle for too long, I chose the basic V8, which is also produced by Campbell's. I know! But these are the tough choices we must make in life. It seemed like it would be more flavorful. Spoiler: the V8 did not ruin everything.

Upon returning home, I set to work. It was not specified how the onions should be chopped, but given that this seemed to in essence be a hash, I did a basic dice. (Have I talked about how to cut an onion already? Here's the best way to cut an onion. It will change your life.) I think we've briefly discussed the differences in types of ground beef but for this, the store had 90% lean/10% fat, so that's what I bought, and seared. If someone does have a good tip for how to drain the fat off meat without dumping some or all the meat into your sink, I'd welcome it with open, meaty arms.

As the meat cooked, I blanched the rice, which requires a little more cooking than blanching say, a tomato does, but not much. (Though when I looked up "blanching rice" I got a recommendation to "boil the rice for the amount of time specified in the recipe" which is not helpful if the recipe doesn't specify an amount of time.) Once that was done, and the meat seemed cooked, I added back a little oil with the onions, for my oil draining had had been a little overzealous; it's hard sometimes to figure out what is oil and what is just water, perhaps because it was really both. After that, you dump in the rice and the tomatoes and, yes, some tomato juice.

I would say the whole thing cooks for maybe only 10 more minutes after that, though I didn't time it. Definitely added a lot of salt and pepper, given that the seasoning on this is otherwise non-existent.

As I said, this pile was served with the arugula salad which gave it a welcome acid balance. I tried to find a side from Fave Recipes, but nothing seemed right; for a bit of preview of what I will have to tackle at some point, there is one dish that involves broccoli, tomatoes and... mayonnaise.

When prompted for his review, my dining companion revealed that he hadn't had lunch (minus 1 point) but he did go for thirds (plus 4). He called it "imminently eatable," which is high praise. I had had lunch, but also ate thirds; it was strange how such an ostensibly heavy dish really just went down the hatch. As we ate, we watched the finale of The Final Table—which my dining companion accurately referred to as "such a cynical amalgamation of all the cooking shows"—because I can only watch food shows while eating. If you are still watching (and I know several of you are), I will not spoil it but I will say: Shane and Mark forever, and Darren is my nemesis.

KATE

P.S. I forgot to include an email from 2008 last time around when we discussed potato leek soup; in it, I asked my father if I could make the soup without an immersion blender and he said that you can, and also suggested adding a little nutmeg.

And some feedback! My friend Julia recently told me she wrote me a long response to one of these and I didn't respond. Julia, I considered sharing your thoughtful response with the group a response! But now I will know how closely you're reading these if I hear about this one ;)

From others, including an amazing name for a twist on potato leek soup:
- "I love that this is the first installment I received because i LOVED this soup, and can vividly picture you making it." - Jessie
- "I had it the following day with some pringles that I broke up and sprinkled into the soup. It adds great texture — I call it 'potato two ways leek soup.'" - Cory

- "Will definitely make this and I too have discovered TJ’s leeks which are already very clean" - Betsy

- "That's a good soup" - Ryan