In my last post about lentils, I said there were more stories to be told, more memories to share, about these pebble-like grains. For some reason, all my thoughts of lentils are very clear. Perhaps more than any other food, lentils have appeared in very specific moments of college and early adulthood where I felt a shift or a change in my world view. I can look back on each one and think, oh that was the day when I realized ___. Writing about these moments seems like a valuable exercise, if only to practice remembering them for myself.
Last time I shared my very first lentil experience (it was not a good first impression). There’s a gap in my memory of lentils between that winter lentil dinner and this next lentil encounter, so I’ll just assume I didn’t eat any lentils between January 2013 and January 2017.
Sophia & Mark
happy pals, tired pals
On New Year’s Day 2017, I boarded a long flight from Chicago to Kigali, Rwanda. My dear friends Amy and Margaret, and I, along with our acting professor and his daughter, journeyed to this small, resilient country to teach a 3-week theater course to a group of middle and high school students. Our other dear friend Sophia lived in Rwanda and taught full-time at a school there. She graciously invited us to join her for this theater-intensive course wherein we would work with the students to devise a musical, based on a beloved children’s story called “You are Special.” It was an opportunity to not only use our storytelling skills, but also experience the country that Sophia loves so much.
I could write many essays about our experiences there, the things we taught and the things taught to us, but that’s not what you’re here for. Instead, lentils. Lentil soup, to be exact.
This was lentils’ turning point, there in that Rwandan kitchen with tiled flooring and bright blue walls. On one of our first nights, Sophia offered to cook us a pot of lentil soup for dinner. In addition to lentils, the soup also had angel hair pasta, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and various spices thrown in to simmer over the stove. In opposition to my last bowl of lentils, this soup spent a lot of time simmering, letting the lentils soften and the flavors meld together. Sophia is someone who deeply resists the urge to rush. I could taste her care in each bite.
Margaret, Amy and I have all tried recreating this soup in the years since that trip, always with the intention of reliving our experience in Rwanda. I’m sure we’ve each gotten close, but no bowl will ever compare, for me at least, to the bowl that Sophia made for me in her home in Kigali on a warm January night. That night I was reminded of how much I need other people, and how that can be a blessing.
If you’re still wondering about Alison’s lentils, I’ll say that they were delicious and simple. The recipe made wayyy too many lentils for just two people to eat - so I’ll call this one good for hosting others. The dish consists of black lentils cooked al dente and tossed with lemon juice, zest and cilantro. On top of the lentils, you can add a large dollop of labne (or goat’s milk yogurt if you’re me) and some frizzled garlic and shallots. Next time I make this, I’ll cut the lentil portion in half, but keep the same amount of garlic/shallot/labne.
51 recipes cooked, 174 to go.
