Falafel

Anyone know of a good veggie burger recipe? (gluten free...)?
Anyone know of a good veggie burger recipe?... I don't eat eggs and can't have gluten... I don't do well w/ peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggplant, or nuts... (Aw, nuts! I know... :)) (also, I have some garbanzo beans- I saw one thing online for falafel burgers but I didn't know how to tailor them, and some great northern beans I could use, either way, to make it?... I also can't really afford quinoa, millet, amaranth, and such (one good recipe I found used quinoa with great northern beans but the only thing I could think of to sub for the quinoa was brown rice, don't know whether or not that would work...) I do eat all other legumes, these just happen to be what I have in my pantry... Read the question next time... I don't talk about my individual health challenges because they're nobody's business but my doctors. Get a counseling degree and stop posting what you don't know about, Jared Idk...

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About Norwegian food..?
If escargot and foie gras are typical French cuisine, ribs and grits are typical American, curry and falafel are typical British, and tamales and chiles rellenos are typical Mexican, then what are some examples of Norway's gastronomical traditions? :)

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which vegan meal is more healthy?
blackbean soup with sourdough roll on side and apple or falafel pita sandwhich with vegetables and side of french fries.

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What foods go well together?
I want to find cuisines that are of different ethnic style - Indian - Chinese; but I was wondering if there was any rarities... What ethnic food goes well with Italian? With Middle East (Falafel?) Thanks!

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Falafel listed as a food that is "bad" for your brain?
http://4mind4life.com/blog/2008/07/19/brain-foods-list-of-bad-brain-foods/ <----------------Its listed as number 12.. Im suffering from depression and am trying to remedy it by eating healthy foods as well as taking my meds Now Im wondering as to why Falafel (chickpea patties) been seen as bad for your brain.. Considering they have lots of spices, herbs and legumes.. Would anyone know why?

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What are some things you do like a boss?
Keep the answers clean. Thanks in advance. :) Edit: I eat pop tarts like a boss. Water the plants like a boss. Go potty like a boss. :) Eat falafel like a boss. Take a shower like a boss. Drive my beat up car, like a boss. O_o Go to work, but I'm not the boss. ( ^ _ ^ ) Dig up nose like a boss. O_o Pay my bills like a boss. Fart like a boss. O_O Eat hummus like a boss. Go potty again like a boss. :) Go to sleep like a boss. :)

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Opinions on my short satire I'm working on?
It's about mercy killing. An animal right's activist that begins killing animals living in factory farms. Did I go overboard e.e? We're supposed to be doing descriptive writing. P.S. (Kind of cut it off at a weird place, I know. Not even close to being finished.) "Untitled" Inhale deeply. Suck in as much air as you can, because you won?t get another chance until that gun goes off. If you do exhaust your supply and your swelling chest nudges the butt of the rifle- even only ever so slightly- there goes your aim. When you pull back the bolt on a .308 Winchester, a tiny, lead bullet ascends from its clip into the chamber. Tug the bolt back into place, and you?re ready to fire off one thousand three hundred and thirty five pounds of force. All it takes is one last, little tug. Pull it slowly, steadily. Don?t jam the trigger down; you don?t want to be expecting the resounding crack of the gunpowder or else you?ll flinch. Gradually increase the pressure until- BANG! At a speed of over one thousand and eight hundred miles per hour, that miniscule shred of metal has enough power behind it to cleanly penetrate the five inch thick skull of a cow. Digging a narrow, perfectly ?O?-shaped tunnel through the squishy, pinkish folds of the cerebellum, it?ll leave behind a path of oozing, red mush. The bullet will blast a jagged, gaping hole through the back of the skull, splattering the animal?s dirty, matted hide with a white and red flurry of bone shards and brain bits. By the time the shot finishes its one-way route, what?s left of the head should resemble something a little like the raw, hormone-loaded ground beef you buy at your local grocery store for dinner. Now exhale. You?ll smell firecrackers. I always think of the Fourth of July. Nineteen summers ago, sitting on the oldest, mustiest smelling blanket my mother could find and stirring up a cloud of microscopic, winged insects every time my hand or foot rolled into the grass, I had my first hamburger. My new friends always ask me, their eyes lighting up with a sort of morbid curiosity, ?Was it good?? Each time my teeth sank into the tender sandwich, a combination of delicious juices and tangy sauces would flow into my mouth, engulfing my taste buds. The lettuce crunched audibly, satisfyingly, adding not so much to the sweet, sweet taste of the beef but to the experience overall. For those five or six bites, I experienced pure bliss. ?No,? I always tell them. ?I wanted to barf,? I always say. Then they smile sympathetically and pat my shoulder and offer words of comfort like, ?You were young? and ?You didn?t know what you were doing.? Was that pardon enough? Ignorance? It didn?t dislodge the hard, curdled lump of self-disgust sitting between the digesting remains of a lentil walnut loaf and the chunk of a falafel pita sandwich in the pit of my stomach. To imagine the price paid for such a short-lived delight? I am a monster. But that?s one of the beautiful things about life: redemption. That empty Saturday night when the seed of atonement was planted in my mind, my television screen seemed to cast an almost celestial-like glow. Some ?80s war flick was being replayed for the fourth time that day when I finally reached the point of absolute drabness and clicked on the channel. The rat-a-tat-tat of some WWII semi-automatic weapon was the monotonous background to the plethora of muted colors on screen. An army green soldier, his dirt-coated face scrunched into one of pleading agony, hung haphazardly half-way into a trench; his hands, pale white peeking through layers of grime, clutched a soaked, black spot inches above his heart. Enter stage left: a second, handsome, young soldier ran up to his fallen comrade, an enormous gun bouncing at his side. ?Tex! C?mon, Tex! You?re gunna be all right! You?re gunna be all right,? cried the protagonist dramatically, emphasizing each emotion that passed across his face with a waggle or a flick of his heavy eyebrows. ?No,? gasped the fallen soldier, tears brimming but not falling in the corners of his eyes, ?just? [Dramatic pause, accompanied by a rattling inhale?] make it stop hurting. Make the pain go away.? Click.

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