Sunday, September 19, 2010

Nurturing my inner... nearly vegetarian

Lentil soup.  A brown murky pot of goop I've never really loved.  My mom made it many times and probably tried to get me to eat it with persuasive words like, "It's good for you.  You'll like the pastini."  The pastini didn't help.  I still have this to say about it - Blech!  But I don't think it's because I don't like lentils.  This needed exploring...

Green Lentils and Tomatoes

1 cup dried green lentils
2 1/2 cups water (or something like that)
1 packet chicken broth concentration (Trader Joe's)
1 can diced tomatoes (Basil and garlic flavor works for me)
1/4 tsp oregano
Olive oil
4 cloves of garlic, sliced
1" x 1" cube size of crumbled Feta cheese


Bowled and labeled. I can't help myself.


I don't really know much about lentils.  (Who does.)  I've been scarred for life, possibly, by the lentil soup story from above.  So I read up on them and then how to cook them.  I learned they are an excellent source of protein.  And iron.  That second part was surprising.  Nature really has everything we need without genetic tweaking and processing.

Just so you know, I'm not a good liar.  I've made lentils one other time, so it's not right to hide that from you.  The thing I took away from that little lesson was that I really needed to cook them for 40 minutes.  Maybe longer.  Lentils, unlike potato chips, should not be crunchy.  The other end of the texture spectrum considered, they should also not be mush.  It's a delicate game of legume boiling time perfection.  I planned on mastering it today.



They are called green, but don't these
also look tan and pink?

The ideal water to lentil mystery is, sadly, still a minor mystery to me.  I've heard 2 to 1.  In practical application I found that I needed a little more.  It could be that I had the heat on tad too high, but in the end, it's just going to take more practice for me.

Put water in the pan and add packet of broth concentrate.  (This is the nearly vegetarian part.  I like the flavor of the chicken.  So sue me.  Wait, this is America, you might sue me.  Scratch that.)


Melts faster than a speeding bullion cube.

From what I read, you need to get the water to boil, add lentils, cook on high for 2-3 minutes, then lower to a simmer and cover.  (And apparently adding salt at this point is a bad thing and can mess up your life, so don't do it.)  Cook for about 40ish minutes or until tender.  Don't let the pan run out of water.  If you have to add some extra, then you just have to do it.  (I had to add water, twice, but don't tell anyone.  That's how I came up with the higher number of 2 1/2 cups because the 1 1/2 cups obviously did NOT work for me.  Eh, live and learn.)


Lentils, precooking, bad shadow. Who took
this picture. I'm firing them. (Oh wait, it was me.)

Lentils 40 minutes later...


Nearly all the liquid is gone. And that's a
good thing.

Note how they look nearly the same, so there isn't much of a great visual indicator to follow because the size doesn't change that much.  They are a bit more brown in color and that's about it.  You'll have to taste test to see how aldente you prefer them.  I've realized over time that cooking isn't something you can just do by following a recipe precisely line by line.  You have to go on experience and instinct. And you might mess up a couple of tries until you get it right.  But over time, you will develop a feel for things.  Our mothers got good at cooking through repetition.  Not necessarily because they were natural born top chefs the moment they got married.  (And some of them could still use a little practice IMHO.)

You know the drill here.  A little olive oil and little sliced garlic in a pan.  Saute until soft.  Gotta start with the flavor base of champions.



Garlic and olive oil slowly simmering.
 
Add the can of diced tomatoes and let simmer until the liquid is reduced.
 

So many varieties these days, so readily
available.
 
Out of the can and into the pan.  Add oregano.
 

Too liquidy. But give it some time.
 
On a medium low simmer, the liquid evaporates and the tomatoes thicken in about 10 minutes.
 

The tomatoes flavor richly develops as the
liquid reduces and the garlic infuses the whole lot.
 
 
Mix the lentils and tomatoes in a bowl.  It's nice that not many ingredients are involved and you can enjoy the lentils in a less than mushy glop (Sorry mom.)  way. 
 

Doesn't it look so healthy?
 
 
I like to add a little feta on top to finish it off and give it a creamy element.  The salty feta is a nice partner to the fibery lentils and tart tomatoes.  Every bite is hearty, chewy and filling.  (If only I had learned to make homemade whole grain bread.  Tell me how awesome it would be to serve this with warm bread and butter.  Yowsah!)
 

Cheese makes everything better.


I added a little zucchini to this other bowl, but all kinds of veggies can be tossed in.  Next time I'm going to add carrots too!


Another batch with more veggies.


It's easy to get hung up thinking you don't like something.  Like me and the dreaded, gloppy (Sorry again mom.) lentils.  But it may not be the main ingredient you don't like.  It could be what else was in it and the way it was prepared.  If you haven't had something in 20 years, you're really due to give it another open-minded shot.  I used to think I wasn't that fond of lentil soup, but it has been, scarily, 25 years since I've given it a fair go.  Instead of trying to have it again at my mom's, the same way I've always been ambivalent about and possibly setting myself up for repeat disaster, I thought I'd try making lentils in a slightly different way and see what results that afforded me.  Now, I love lentils!  (Why does that sound like an organic version of the TV show from the 1950s?)

Now that I've said this aloud, to an audience no less, I'm going to have to make good on my word and give meatloaf a fair try next.  This doesn't sound so appealing to me, but if it turns out as well as the lentils did, my short list of foods that haven't been my favorite could be completely eliminated!  What a wonderful world it would be.

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