For about 2 weeks of every year, I care enough about my yard
to get out there and do something about it. The rest of the year, it’s a chunk
of dirt and weeds and expectations that wears me down and makes me sad. Don’t
get me wrong – I’d love it if my yard was lush and beautifully maintained, so I
could sit on my deck with a cool drink in the evening and see beauty all around
me. Not, however, if that means I have to do the work.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m really an indoor
kitty. While I’ll happily camp and kayak and Do Actual Outdoor Things, given a
choice between a good book on my couch or a good book on my desk, I choose the
couch distressingly often (and my weird attachment to our house doesn’t mean
that I’m all that excited about doing indoor projects either. I’m very
on-brand.). Our yard has fallen into a sad cycle of half-hearted effort and neglect
and disappointment, and the only way to break that cycle is to win the lottery
so I can afford to pay someone to do it for me.
Meantime, I get excited enough about the yard every April
that I recruit the kids to help clean up the leaves and dead weeds and assorted
detritus, and I page wistfully through gardening catalogs and websites and
fantasize that this is a hobby I would enjoy. I appreciate the whole
cycle-of-life chill Zen vibe that really devout gardeners talk about. And when my
back and legs are sore and my clothes are filthy and I’ve realized that sunshine
does not necessarily equal warmth in a Michigan April, I come back inside and
make this soup for my family as a reward for their labors.
Two of our favorite comfort foods are dal and mjadara, which
in addition to being delicious and filling and easy to make have the added
benefit of containing ingredients that we have in the pantry 99% of the time. (This
is clearly a big damn deal in the middle of a quarantine.) Hence, this marvelous
soup that is a perfect cross between the two. It lent itself to substitutions
from the pantry, and cooked all by itself with almost no attention from me.
From The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean by Paula Wolfert,
one of the more aspirational cookbooks I own. I cook from it so rarely that doing so qualified this for the official NoP Cookbook Challenge count; the stories in it are so interesting that I can't bear to part with it, and I keep promising myself that I'll tackle it in more depth at some point (see the chapter titled "Fifty Varieties of Kibbeh" and you'll see exactly what I'm talking about).
Red Lentil Soup with Caramelized Onions from Aleppo
1 cup red lentils
¼ cup fine-grain bulgur (or quinoa, if that’s what you have
in your cupboard)
¼ cup short-grain rice (or medium-grain brown rice, if that’s
what you have in your cupboard)
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 tbsp ground cumin
2-3 large onions (about 1 ½ lbs), halved and thinly sliced
½ cup olive oil
1 tbsp ground coriander
Pinch of cayenne
Rinse the lentils, rice (brown rice), and bulgur (quinoa).
Place in a deep saucepan with 6 cups of water, the salt, and the cumin. Bring
to a boil and skim any foam that floats to the surface, then reduce the heat,
cover, and simmer about 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large heavy skillet. Cook
the onions over medium-high heat until they soften, then reduce the heat and
cook until deep brown but not burned. Conveniently, this will take almost exactly
the same amount of time as the soup.
Stir the coriander and cayenne into the soup. Pour the entire
contents of the skillet into the soup, stir, and serve.
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