An easy recipe for bringing folks together: Lamb Burger Nights

Hello again! Thanks for spending a few minutes reading my second “Next Course” newsletter, which launched earlier this month with a review of the world’s most controversial restaurant. With this edition, I’m sharing something that sparks joy: gathering friends at home for an easy dinner.

The bonus people assumed I’d miss the most once I parted ways with The Washington Post was an expense account. I never knew exactly how big my budget was—only that it allowed me to visit each restaurant three times, with company in tow, in order to sample the range of a menu.

I dined out as many as 10 meals per week. That’s a lot of dough.

Here’s the truth: The best perk of being the food critic at The Post was the opportunity to invite some of the most interesting people from here and elsewhere. Perhaps because that kind of expense-account job is singular and often glamourized (how many people do you know who get paid to eat and tell?), almost everyone I asked out responded with an immediate “Yes!”

In addition to colleagues and friends, my dining companions over the years included a Cabinet Secretary, foreign ambassadors, Pulitzer Prize winners, federal judges, lobbyists, Smithsonian museum heads, White House social secretaries, three-star generals, Secret Service agents, ballet dancers, teachers, plane crash investigators, and a porn actor. (I’m saving that last guest for any memoir.) I tended to avoid eating with other food writers, mostly because the last thing I wanted to discuss was food---busman’s holiday and all that. In choosing whomever I wanted to share a meal with, I hoped to learn something from their experience.

Boy, did I. Over cocktails and glasses of wine, strangers became friends, and friends divulged confidences. The meals became master classes in life.

One of many takeaways was that people feel lonelier than Instagram lets on. Studies confirm this. Three years ago, the U.S. Surgeon General reported that about half of U.S. adults say they’ve experienced loneliness, declaring it a public health epidemic. “It's like hunger or thirst,” Dr. Vivek Murthy told the Associated Press. “It's a feeling the body sends us when something we need for survival is missing." He went on to say the health risks of loneliness were truly as deadly as smoking more than a dozen cigarettes a day.

Breaking bread with others is a palatable way to mitigate the problem. That’s why I continue to gather people around the table, minus the expense account. Even before I took the Post buyout, I began inviting a few folks at a time over for simple dinners where the focus was less on food and more on assembling company I cared about or wanted to get to know better. My partner and I are calling them Lamb Burger Nights, my go-to entree of choice.

These meals typically take place on Sundays to stretch out the weekend, or early in the workweek to avoid Friday-Saturday nights out. The call to dinner is never past 6 o’ clock, so folks can go home to Netflix, read a book, check email, or tuck in the kids. To make it easy on the hosts, we start with a simple salad or soup and end with a no-fuss dessert, both of which are make-ahead. Sometimes I throw in Mom’s three-bean salad, a favorite.

Hors d’oeuvres? I take my cue from the late, great Julia Child. To keep her dinner guests from filling up before a meal, she served simple snacks, including Goldfish crackers.

While hamburgers are something a lot of us can get behind, lamb burgers have a sexier ring to them. They signal, “I put some thought into this.” I tweaked a recipe whose accents borrow from the Mediterranean. I love the thrum of cumin, the breeze of mint or parsley, and the element of surprise: a core of melted cheese.

To keep the evening intimate and informal, my partner and I try to keep the gathering to just four others — a great opportunity to make the singles or a couple in our lives feel special. Instead of flowers, we sometimes employ small treasures as centerpieces. The art deco globes we bought on a trip to Spain never fail to prompt oohs and ahhs or a conversation about memorable vacations.

You don’t need much time—or money—to make these burgers, which I whip up even when it’s just the two of us for dinner…well, three of us when you count our always-hungry whippet, Henry.

Since relocating from a home with an outdoor grill to an apartment, I’ve learned to cook these burgers in a kitchen without an outside vent. Instead of using salt in the mix, I season the chilled patties on both sides just before cooking. My favorite accompaniments to a good burger at home sans guests are thick-cut potato chips. Vinegar-flavored ones add a tangy contrast.

MAKE AHEAD: The cheese-stuffed patties need to be refrigerated for an hour, and up to overnight.

2 or 3 garlic cloves, minced (2 teaspoons)
¼ medium yellow onion, finely chopped (¼ cup)
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh mint or parsley
1 tablespoon Dijon or whole-grain mustard
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 large egg
1 pound ground lamb (or, for bigger patties, 1¼ pounds)
1 ounce crumbled blue cheese, such as Gorgonzola, crumbled (may substitute four
1-inch cubes of feta or aged cheddar)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon canola or grapeseed oil
1 teaspoon kosher salt
4 brioche hamburger buns, for serving
4 butter lettuce leaves, for garnish
Thin slices of red or white onion, for garnish
4 beefsteak tomato slices, for garnish (preferably in season!)

Stir together the garlic, finely chopped onion, mint or parsley, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, pepper, cumin, and egg in a large bowl until well combined. Add the meat and gently mix with your clean or gloved hands just until evenly incorporated.

Divide the mixture into four equal portions. Insert equal amounts of the cheese into

the center of each one, gently forming a ball so the cheese is completely enclosed. Shape the balls into patties about an inch or so thick, placing them on a plate as you work. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, and up to overnight.

Melt the butter and oil in a cast-iron skillet over medium heat, until foamy and sizzling

a bit. Using your thumb, make a dent in the top of each patty; this prevents domed burgers, then season the patties on both sides with the salt. Cook, seam sides down, until nicely browned on both sides, to an internal temperature of 140 to 145 degrees F (medium-rare), turning them over as needed, 4 to 6 minutes.

If desired, toast the buns. Place a lettuce leaf on each bottom bun. Top each leaf with a burger, a spoonful of any pan juices, then finish with the sliced onion, tomato, and top buns. Serve warm.

Recipe adapted from Tia Mowry/Food Network.

The promise of fun in the cold and snow (hey, I’m from Minnesota!) drew me to Montréal en Lumière, the annual festival of lights with its music, gastronomy, and more. For five days last month, I grazed around Quebec’s largest city. These three establishments make me want to return, and soon.

Some restaurants are born classics. Owner Martin Picard’s brasserie-gone-legend on Duluth Street in the Plateau is one of them — the kind of place Anthony Bourdain once ate himself into legend at, and where the cooking has always felt like a dare cooked in duck fat.

Executive chef Michael Picard Labelle, Martin’s nephew, brings a creative touch to the menu while retaining the spirit of the 25 year-old crowd-pleaser. The chef trained at the esteemed Mugaritz in Spain and Osteria Francescana in Italy before returning to the fold eight years ago, and you can feel that pedigree in the way a dish lands: with intention, not just bravado. Aim for a stool overlooking the open kitchen, practically an invitation to chat up the busy cooks.

Foie gras still holds pride of place, though time has brought a bit more freshness and delicacy to the menu. The foie gras nigiri is a Franco-Japanese handshake, served in ramen spoons with a splashes of ponzu and house-made maple syrup. It’s one of Montreal’s richest bites of sushi. The crazy-good poutine, that pillar of Québécois comfort, is given the full PDC treatment: A heap of golden fries, crisped curds, and both beef and foie gras gravies is a splurge for the books. Dense, earthy blood sausage speaks to the kitchen’s ongoing commitment to offal.

The whole-animal concept is reinforced in the restaurant’s decor and cookbook design, too, with paintings and illustrations by Canada’s Marc Seguin, a friend of the house. There are comparatively light moments here, but Au Pied de Cochon is best at its fattiest.

Maître d' Charlotte Picard makes sure everyone has a grand time. A model of jolly hospitality, the owner’s Gen Z daughter says she’s been a part of the institution since she was 6 months old: “This was my playground!” It still seems to be.

536 Av. Duluth E, Montreal. Reservations online only; aupieddecochon.ca Entrees, $34 to $48.

Brothers Ari and Pablo Schor preside over this dreamy corner storefront with fewer than 30 seats during winter. You’ll want reservations.

You’ll also want to find time for Ari’s lush foie gras, piped into a large, plush date and sprinkled with toasted pistachios; folds of brined beef ham (the “other” pork alternative), nestled next to a tiny skewer of guindilla peppers, olives, and anchovies; and slices of cured mackerel splayed on a crisp sesame bun spread with horseradish and butter. The last appetizer delivers a concert of flavors that tastes like a celestial bagel.

“The menu is based on our experiences,” says Ari, who occupies the small open kitchen. His cooking weaves the brothers’ native Argentina, Jewish ancestry, adopted Canadian city and a pivotal months-long trip to Italy and Spain — hence the pasta and, with the beef ham, the Spanish-branded Gilda. (Beba, in the residential neighborhood of Verdun, is named for the owners’ grandmother Vera, the baby of her family.)

“The menu is based on our experiences,” says Ari, who occupies the small open kitchen. His cooking weaves the brothers’ native Argentina, Jewish ancestry, adopted Canadian city, and a pivotal months-long trip to Italy and Spain — hence a pasta, and, with the beef ham, a Spanish-branded Gilda. (Beba, in the residential neighborhood of Verdun, is named for the owners’ grandmother Vera, the baby of her family.)

The secret to the Schors’ success? “If you do something niche, not just delicious,” he says, “people will take notice.” A packed and happy dining room says as much.

3900 Rue Ethel, Montreal 514-750-7087 restaurantbeba.ca Entrees, $20 to $40

Mention the name Mastard, and everyone who cares about food in Montreal insists you should dine at this gem opened five years ago by chef-owner Simon Mathys.

The chef’s tasting menu, which relies on prime ingredients from Quebec, is spare. Each of the five courses is described in just a few words. “I like things short and straightforward,” says Mathys, who nevertheless lists the names of everyone who works for him on a separate card. “This is not a one-man show.” His wife, Viki Brisson-Sylvestre, focuses on the dining room experience.

The team effort reveals itself in the details at Mastard, where the men and women who introduce the dishes at the table sometimes include the people who made them. A recent dinner launched with Mathys’ idea of a big hug: a clear ham broth infused with toasted hay. Restorative, you bet.

Although every course is memorable, this fish fan fell especially hard for the shaved, steamed beet hiding pristine scallop on horseradish cream, and for roasted walleye sauced with pork broth, miso, and cream dappled with parsley oil. “Sauces are my favorite thing to do,” says the chef, who finishes the walleye with spoonfuls of basil, zucchini, and eggplant purees.

The final surprise is a pleasant one: the cost — a mere $75 for a night to remember.

1879 Rue Belanger, Montreal, 514-843-2152. restaurantmastard.com Five-course tasting menu, $75.

Coming up in Next Course: The distinct joys of being a restaurant regular, with a recipe you’ll want to slip into your own dinner rotation.