Monday mornings in our house are stacked up, over-scheduled,
frequently chaotic, rarely comfortable, always short on time, long on attitude
and can, but only if we let them, set the tone for the entire week.
This week, I didn't let it get to me. I rose at 6am to meditate (yes, I
am becoming one of those people) in a quiet house before anyone else
needed anything, waded through the detritus left over from a weekend filled
with activities and house guests, met the electricians at the front door in my
jammies, showered, woke the kids, served three different breakfasts, sent
everyone off to their respective educational venues...blah blah blah...this is
not the point I'm trying to make here...
When the
dust settled, what I saw stretched out in front of me like a path of endless
possibilities paved with DSW coupons and lined with honeycrisp apple trees, was
an opportunity. What I realized was I had a beautiful, newly remodeled
kitchen and a whole day ahead of me to spend cooking whatever inspired me.
Now, you
must know that culinary inspiration at my house comes mainly in the form of a popular periodical. I will not apologize for
this. I am not one of those people who can consult the almanac, sweep out
to their garden and create something from what grew there that day. Now,
my friend Julie, she's like that, and she posted about a roasted red pepper and
corn chowder yesterday where she actually roasted the red peppers herself
instead of buying them in that cute, skinny jar. This is a girl with a
garden brimming with culinary inspiration...I fully believe this woman is
capable of growing everything from mayonnaise to birthday cake...but I digress.
On this particular Monday I was
inspired by a recipe for lentils (an underwhelming legume that I hear is
good for me, but I'm not convinced). My interest piqued by a
declaration of spiciness and the addition of onions and tomatoes (a slam
dunk favorite in this house), I prepared my list. Feeling kind of
plucky and reminded of the fact that I had ALL day, the plan was to also make whole wheat pitas to accompany our stew (the
mother in me was thinking, if the girls won't eat the lentils at least they'll
have bread to fill them up.)
Fast forward through 7 hours of the
day, a playdate, a pre-school pick-up, 2 art projects made from leftover
lentils, the clean-up of one shoe covered with dog poop, 3 episodes of Go!
Diego! Go!, 2 pages of math homework, 1 drill of spelling words and we all
found ourselves gathered at the table gazing down at plates of Spicy Ethiopian
Lentil Stew, black quinoa and fresh whole wheat pitas. The smell was
amazing. The visual appeal was undeniable.
The first bite was...
Begrudgingly swallowed by the oldest
sister, who was clearly unhappy about her meal but knows better than to insult
the chef.
Tentatively picked at by the
middle bit, who refused to touch any more of the "contaminated" rice
and wanted to know if drinking her milk counted as dinner.
Completely rejected by the smallest
one in the house, who proceeded to gag and carefully avoid any contact
with her plate while inhaling her pita.
And thoroughly enjoyed by the Father
and me, who instantly labeled it a "repeat" dish to be added to our
collection. The spices were fabulous. The textures complex and foreign,
but wonderful. Yum.
The meal came to a close with very
little drama. We don't fight about food in our house. I serve a
meal. One meal. And that's what's for dinner. If you don't
like it, you don't have to eat it, but there will be no substitutes.
On this night my children ate bread and milk for the evening meal,
engaged in polite conversation and brought their mostly full plates to the sink
when they were finished...and this is where the side dish comes in. As I
was scraping picked-at, cold, brown food into the sink I was overwhelmed
with the amount of waste, feeling guilty about what I was
washing down the sink and it was all made worse by the fact that this exotic masterpiece
was entitled:
Ethiopian Lentil Stew.
Ethiopian, as in starving children in
Africa. Ethiopian, as in all of those TV images we were barraged with in
the '80s and '90s. Ugh. Guilt. This is one of those
unpleasant moments my meditation teacher keeps telling me to try and experience
fully. To really be present in. Well I was certainly present in
this one. It felt awful and smelled like cloves. It stirred up
thoughts about waste and what I take for granted. It stung a bit that I
stood there and wiped down a gorgeous new sink and counter top when there are
so many people losing their homes these days. I also heaped on a bit of
self judgment about sending my kids to bed hungry and subjecting them to wacky
food when a grilled cheese might have made them happier. And then when I
got to the very bottom, I started to try and make myself feel better by telling
myself I don't take things for granted, and it's good for these girls to be
exposed to new foods. Right? Right. A lot of mental junk over
a few beans going down the sink.
And that's really all it was.
These days I'm trying to see things for what they are. Not
what I make them into. Simple to say. Not easy to do.
So what's this all about? My
point? Part confession about being bound to my recipes. Part
declaration about how exotic I can be on a Monday afternoon. Part finding
a way to post a recipe I thought was delightful without just simply copying the
ingredients. Part admission that my very adventurous eaters DO
occasionally summarily reject one of my culinary masterpieces. Part being
very grateful for what I have. Part writing it down because that makes it
more real.
Real. Yes. They were
really just lentils. And I'm going to put aside the guilt.
Ingredients
- 2 teaspoons canola oil
- 2 cups chopped red onion
- 1 tablespoon minced peeled fresh ginger
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 3 tablespoons tomato paste
- 1 1/2 tablespoons Berbere spice
- 3 cups organic vegetable broth
- 1 cup dried small red lentils
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro
- 4 cups hot cooked basmati rice
Preparation
1. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven
over medium heat. Add onion to pan; cook 15 minutes or until tender, stirring
occasionally. Add ginger and garlic; cook 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Stir
in tomato paste and Berbere spice; cook 1 minute, stirring to combine.
Gradually add broth, stirring with a whisk until blended. Increase heat to
medium-high; bring to a simmer.
2. Rinse lentils until cold water;
drain. Add lentils to broth mixture; simmer, partially covered, 35 minutes or
until lentils are tender, stirring occasionally. Stir in salt. Sprinkle with
cilantro; serve over rice.
Nutritional
Information
Calories:454
Fat:3.9g (sat 0.3g,mono 1g,poly 1g)
Protein:19g
Carbohydrate:85.5g
Fiber:9.5g
Sodium:867mg
Domenica Marchetti, Cooking Light,
MAY 2010
