“Editor’s” (cough) Note: Yet again, my attempts to actually photograph the steps here were foiled, this time by a spiteful camera battery refusing to warn me before just crapping out and going on strike. Pictures to come; in the meantime, just imagine rich, sweet corn and butter, with bright lemon, and sharp ginger and scallion, hopping around on your taste buds like smurfs on mushroom caps, in a little confetti party of healthy, proteiny, satisfying summery deliciousness. Was that sufficiently Bob Ross meets Alton Brown to entice you? Well then, Yaay! Read on…

“Quinoa? Seriously? but moooommm, whyyyyy?”

Because it’s delicious. No, seriously, it is. And it hurts my little grain-loving heart to hear people say they don’t like it. Not people who subsist on Pizza Rolls and Pepsi (no judgment, just no surprise). But people who really like – not just “have trained themselves to sufficiently enjoy” – other healthy foods with much more maligned and odiferous reputations. Roasted brussels sprouts? DONE. Kimchi? Down the hatch. But quinoa?

Squenched noses.

What is wrong with this picture?!

I couldn’t figure it out, for the life of me. It’s like rice or pasta you can feel smug about! It’s protein you don’t have to tear apart with your pointy teeth! It’s the pop rocks of the soil! It’s the chicken of the plains – it tastes like whatever you put in, on, with, or other adverb it! You can eat it cold, you can eat it hot! You can eat it sweet, you can eat it not! Not just for dinner, or even for lunch! You can have it for breakfast, or even to munch! (With apologies to the late 90’s Harris Teeter “Foodies” jingle).

Through sheer happenstance, I discovered and began preparing quinoa through bulk bin scavenging rather than a deliberate ingredient search that would otherwise have steered me down the grains aisle. With merely Saturday morning food TV research as my guide. Therefore, I only recently became aware of the gross disservice to America that is the package directions. The same package directions which far too many recipes based upon quinoa recommend you use to get started, and I somehow luckily avoided in my quest to bump up my protein intake without having to make myself sick on meat and nut butters.

And there’s where the “ick” factor comes in. When I tried to make this recipe last week, I wasn’t paying attention, lost count of my water/grain ratio, and ended up with the package directions’ instead of my recipe’s.

And so, yeah. Eww.

I get it. Any pasta, grain, bottom-of-the-pyramid-not-bread thing is going to be disgusting in unseasoned cooking liquid, and when cooked within an inch of debatable solid state. Likewise, in what I’m assuming was an attempt to avoid this porridge-like fate as the dish had to sit for a few hours, I’ve had a surprising number of quinoa salads from both deli bars and restaurant menus, that were surprisingly and pretty inedibly undercooked. If you’ve ever had fried rice from a cheap Chinese joint on a busy night, you’ll know the shock-and-ick feeling I’m talking about. It’s just as shock-and-ick with quinoa; but rice doesn’t have a reputation for “popping”, as does quinoa, so let me assure you – “crunch” and “pop” are not the same, and if you’ve only had the crunchy kind, my apologies on behalf of the chef.

So honestly. My love for this little (not-so) carby chameleon is not rooted in some pointy-nosed noodle snobbery. You’re talking to a girl who has gotten Costco-sized bags of rice as a gift on more than one occasion from people who do not know each other – and who took several years longer than her peers to understand what could possibly be unbalanced about a dinner of macaroni & cheese, corn, tater tots, and tapioca pudding.

That’s the selling point on quinoa, for me: think of any pasta or rice based comfort food, delicious rich hot cereal, or potluck salad that you’ve either long since stopped eating, or won’t give up but hate the way it makes you feel (physically or otherwise), and I would be willing to bet it could be wonderfully recreated with quinoa, and not in that “if you forget it’s supposed to be this other thing, then sure, it’s pretty good” way. It’s like a hippie food gateway drug, without even having to cover it up in not-so-hippie-food things (a la “any green veggie and cheese”).

This recipe is as easy as it gets – If you can boil water and use a whisk, you’re good to go. It’s just as good hot as it is cold (though I usually serve it as a cold summer salad, and only eat it hot after I’ve just finished making it because I have no impulse control around corn or ginger, for what that’s worth). It’s also gluten free (as long as your ginger syrup is also), making it a refreshingly flavorful and considerate block party or picnic potluck option for those used to eating before they arrive and politely scavenging among the crudités.

So embrace your hippie side, and give quinoa a chance. I promise you won’t need cheese.

Notes:

If you have a rice cooker, I highly recommend using it to prepare the quinoa, as it not only allows for a much more “set it and forget it” prep, but most also allow you to steam veggies at the same time. I do so with the corn here.

If you don’t have one, get one. I’m not one to hawk one-trick gadgetry, despite my own penchant for collecting it, but I fully expected to really like having a rice cooker, and I LOVE it instead. It is way more versatile than I ever imagined, can double as a slow cooker in most situations, and unlike, say, a blender, or a chef’s knife, the difference in effort required for great results with a fairly-cheap one, compared to a shall-I-pay-my-mortgage-or-buy-this-countertop-appliance one, really isn’t that significant.

Another Note: the dressing itself is also great as a dressing for regular old green salad. However, you might want to replace some or all of the butter with a light oil (I’ve used peanut), and/or otherwise whisk in some extra lemon juice/water to keep it from being quite so, well, buttery. I don’t mind it; I just make sure to microwave it and whisk it up again until it’s good and liquefied if I’m using it straight out of the fridge.

Lemon-Ginger Quinoa Salad

adapted from Just A Taste, “Quinoa with Corn and Scallions”

1 cup white/regular quinoa, uncooked

1 cup black quinoa, uncooked

4 TBSP lemon zest, divided

4 TBSP fresh lemon juice, divided

2 TBSP minced fresh ginger

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) salted butter, melted

2 TBSP ginger syrup (or, 1 TBSP agave + 1 TBSP fresh minced ginger)

4 Scallions, chopped

4 ears corn

Salt and pepper to taste

Unless packaged and pre-rinsed, combine quinoa in a medium-large bowl (or crock of a rice cooker) and add just enough water to cover. Rinse thoroughly and strain (either using a superfine sieve, a paper towel or cheesecloth laid in a colander, or carefully with your hands). Combine the 2 cups quinoa with 3 cups water in a rice cooker*. Add the zest of two lemons (about 2 tablespoons), the juice of two lemons (also about two tablespoons), 1 tablespoon of fresh minced ginger, and a generous dash or three of salt. Stir to combine, and start rice cooker according to machine directions for 2 cups of white rice.

*If cooking stovetop, follow directions above, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until liquid is absorbed, about 15-20 minutes.

If using a rice cooker, and it has a veggie/food steam option, follow appliance directions to steam the 4 ears of corn until crisp. If not, steam, grill, or oven-roast however you would normally go about cooking plain corn on the cob, leaving it just on the raw side of done. Shuck and set aside.

Combine melted butter, ginger syrup (or ginger/agave), remaining 2 lemons/TBSP worth of lemon zest and lemon juice, plus salt and pepper to taste. Whisk thoroughly to combine; microwave for additional 15-30 seconds (or otherwise reheat) just until flavors are thoroughly married, if desired.

When quinoa is finished cooking, toss to combine with shucked corn and chopped scallions. Add about half the dressing and toss to coat. Taste, and feel free to stop here if you prefer a lighter flavor. Otherwise, add the remaining dressing and stir until well mixed.

Serve warm or cold alone, atop a bed of greens, in lettuce cups or in a wrap.