1 cup rotini
1 cup penne
2 cups Italian breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons of tomato sauce
1 mozzarella cheese slice
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My plan for the burgers was simple. I’d boil two types of pasta (Rotini and Penne) for 20 minutes until they were well past al dente, cool them down in the freezer, throw each in a NutriBullet, and make a patty. That plan immediately went off the rails.
What no amount of Top Chef or Great British Bake-Off episodes can prepare one for is the reality that cold, boiled pasta is not meant for a NutriBullet. The shards of noodle quickly began to stick to the walls of the plastic NutriBullet cup and, when scooped out of the blender, immediately coated my hands in a glue-like casing. As I tried to roll the pasta shards into a patty, my fingers would just stick to each other. Why Pattinson needed layers of cheese to bind pasta together is beyond me. Gluten is nature’s perfect binding agent.
What one must understand about a pasta burger is the sheer weight of a pasta burger. It’s not comparable to any burger I’ve held before: beef, turkey, veggie, salmon. In hand, the sticky gluten brick feels as heavy as a hockey puck. If dropped, it could elicit a thump that could be heard from another room. Pattinson cannot in good faith call his new invention a “little pillow.” It is far closer in weight to a cinder block.
A glass of water was my only salvation. Sushi’s yellow eyes looked on in disgust. The knocked over pasta was his warning that I foolishly didn’t heed. After the oil had cooled, my mouth regained its normal taste, and the four pasta burgers were sequestered from sight, the reality of the situation settled in.
Pasta burgers are an abomination. No amount of wizardry can change that fact. Whether they’re coated in sugar and corn flakes or fried like a chicken cutlet, the results will always be the same. Pasta was never meant to be handheld.