Ode to a Lentil

Let's start with a Haiku...

My mom always says that one of the hardest jobs in motherhood is meal planning. I don’t have any kids, but I have to say that task, even just for me, can feel monumental.

About five months ago, I re-evaluated my choices around food and made some changes. It was motivated by a desire to reduce my blood sugar levels so I made the low carb choice initially knowing it wasn’t sustainable but would be a good first step.

I made Reuben casseroles – cream cheese, sauerkraut, ham, and shredded Swiss baked to a golden brown. Chicken thigh fajitas fragrant with Tajin. Egg cups – beaten eggs with half and half, shredded cheddar and crumbled sausage baked in muffin tins. Anything creamy, meaty, or cheesy, I was all in.

Eating that way for a few months did the job but I’m Irish. A day without a potato is like a day without sunshine. Couple that with the research I found explaining that high blood sugar is merely a symptom and that the problem is the body’s cells not letting in enough insulin, thus leaving extra glucose in the blood – and I knew a change was coming.

Sure enough, my body started to ask for more plant-based foods.

Growing up in the 60s and 70s the choices of fresh vegetables were limited. Even if there were recipes in cookbooks (there was no internet) that called for fennel or asparagus or brussels sprouts, good luck finding them in a regular grocery store and if you did, I’m certain they were very expensive.

My mother tried her level best to get all of us to eat vegetables. To her credit, she planted a garden, which provided other types of vegetables we also wouldn’t eat like tomatoes, eggplant, and zucchini. She would sneak beans into crockpot chili, but I don’t ever remember them being a staple in the rotation on their own, most likely because they’d have been left on the plate, no dessert worth the texture. And honestly, I don’t remember a single lentil ever gracing my plate.

The only vegetables, other than the occasional salad, any of us would eat without a fight came out of a can. Green beans and corn mostly, and even those could prove to be a challenge depending on the night. I think I was the only one of us who liked peas.

When it became my choice, and my choice alone, about what I ate, my palate became more adventurous. While the food options in the college cafeteria weren’t exotic, I did try things I hadn’t eaten growing up, although I was never brave – or crazy – enough to try my freshman roommate’s favorite of cottage cheese and thousand island dressing on saltines.

I ventured out to brunch, mainly at the old Hyatt in Chatham Square where they served shrimp the size of your fist (fun fact: a shrimp was the first real food I ever ate. Spoiled me for life), crab legs, and so many dishes I’d never even heard of but that I found delectable. I fell in love with Chicken Devonshire and expanded my list of favorites beyond a good slice or burger.

But all bets were off when I moved to New York City and was exposed to the food mecca of America.

I may have been timid at first, but by the time I moved fifteen years later, I was eating aloo gobi, pad Thai, and steamed vegetable dumplings. I had grown to love fish – who wouldn’t when Eric Ripert pan fried monkfish in brown butter and served it with the most delicious sautéed savoy cabbage at Le Bernadin? I even tried sushi. Granted, I was tricked into it, but I did give it a go.

Considering my history with food, which includes a love of myriad types labeled “junk,” it was interesting to discover myself recently craving lentils. I couldn’t get them out of my mind and instead of analyzing why, as I am wont to do, I just bought a bag.

I had no recipe, but that’s not unusual. I’m a cook, not a baker so I’m not as beholden to chemistry and science when I create in the kitchen. I gathered the ingredients, then carefully chopped the onion, carrot, and celery. While they softened over heat in olive oil, I rinsed the lentils and sliced the smoked turkey sausage.

The aroma of the sizzling mirepoix filled my kitchen and I leaned into the pot to drink it in. After adding the sausage, I poured in the lentils and some stock and let time do its thing. Five days later, I have one serving left.

I’ve mostly had them with strips of red pepper, which I never would have eaten before, dipped in a bit of Italian dressing. Every meal has ended with a sigh and an exclamation of, “God I enjoyed the hell out of that!” In fact, I’ve decided my goal is to only eat things that cause that reaction. I love the trifecta of my body, mind and taste buds agreeing on what is delicious.

The level of enjoyment I’ve gotten outing of preparing and eating such a simple food blows my mind. I’ll share my recipe below and would love for you to tell me what rings your culinary bell in the comments. What brings about a similar reaction after you’ve eaten it?

staci’s Lentils

1 bag green or brown lentils

1 large onion

3 stalks of celery

2 large carrots

3 cloves of garlic (or more to taste)

1 package smoked turkey sausage (you can choose another type or leave it out if you prefer)

2 T Better than Boullion Chicken (don’t be cheap and use another brand. Trust me on this. You can always use veggie stock if that’s your thing)

Salt and Pepper

Onion powder

Garlic powder

Olive oil

Dutch oven or similar pot

Rinse lentils in a strainer and leave them in the sink to drain.

Cut onion and celery into large, diced pieces and slice the carrots into quarter inch rounds. Heat a tablespoon or so of olive oil in the pot and when hot, slide in the veggies. Grind salt and pepper over them – three turns of each. (I used a grinder for both, but my best guess is a teaspoon or so if yours is already ground). Stir and turn temp down to medium high.

Mince garlic cloves and slice sausage.

Add a good sprinkle of both onion and garlic powder to the veggies and stir.

Boil two cups of water, add the Better than Bouillon and stir until it melts.

Stir veggies until they’re just about to turn brown. Add garlic and stir. Throw in sausage. Cook till it begins to brown. Add the lentils. Pour in the bouillon mixture. Add plain water until lentils are just covered. Give it a good stir. Turn down heat to low, put a lid on and leave it alone for 20 minutes.

Check texture of lentils. They’ll probably need to cook for another 5-10 minutes depending on how al dente you like them. When they are to your liking, give them a taste test, and adjust seasoning to your preference.

They go great with the aforementioned pepper strips, a salad, or even garlic toast. Throw some parm or other cheese in if you’re inclined. Finish them the way that appeals to you and enjoy!

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