Literally.
With some cheese.
Someone laughed at me recently when I said I’m “mostly vegetarian.” It’s true that, in vegetarian-land, there’s no “mostly.” If you eat meat, you’re not a vegetarian.
But when my carnivorous roommate’s got an overnight work function, and when I’m all by myself for dinner, and when we recently got some gorgeous organic arugula from a local farmer’s market, and there are half-dead carrots screaming to be used… When I cook for myself, I rarely bother with meat. It’s the perfect time, to quote the great Julia Roberts, to be still like vegetables; lay like broccoli.
This video has nothing to do with the above quote, but it's the best part of the movie. If you disagree, you have no soul.
I blame my restaurant experience for a love affair with lentils - one restaurant in particular has a fantastic warm lentil salad – bright and lemony, with salty bits of salami and sharp fennel. I kind of hate them for coming up with it first. I dream about this salad.
The Lentil Salad dreams take shape in nightmare format, though, because most of my restaurant-related kitchen disasters involved mishaps with those blankety-blank stupid whore lentils. Whether overcooking them, or undercooking them, or accidentally dumping them in floor drains while trying to drain huge, boiling vats, or the constant paranoia that I wouldn't have enough to last the night - I’m surprised that The Lentil and I are still on good terms.
And there was the Saturday night when I thought I only had two quarts of prepared lentils left – not nearly enough – and was running the station by myself, so I had to field a board full of orders AND fine-brunois a quart each of onion, carrot, and celery for the blankety-blank stupid whore lentils. I’m hustling. I’m about to cry. Every chance I get, I run to the back table and fine-brunois my fat little fingers to the fat little bones, trying to do it on the sly, lest Chef French-brogue at me, knowingly singsongy-style, from across the kitchen liiiiisaaaaaaaa, what are you dooooooing? and I’m telling myself you’ve got time, it’ll be okay, and meanwhile more people than the Earth can hold keep walking in off the street ordering the blankety-blank stupid whore lentil salad like nobody’s business, along with everything else out of my station…
That, friends, is panic.
… So I finish the veg, and I get the pot and colander and olive oil and water and strainer, and I get my lentils going, and I’m truly and actually and fat-ly running back and forth between my station and the back stove, and Chef is grinning but not asking. And I finish cooking them, and I drain them, and I lay them out on sheet pans.
Success. Done. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. And, of course, service slows down right then. I slump a little and a bead of sweat falls from my nose onto my shoe.
And the night kitchen manager saunters past, then stops, comes back around the corner, narrows his eyes at me with a head-cocked-to-the-side smile, and says:
You know you have, like, a gallon of cooked lentils in the walk-in, right?
I said words that I won’t type here, preceded by a loud WHAT. I hear Chef roaring with laughter behind us on the way to his office.
Kitchen Manager grins broadly.
I repeat all of those untypeables.
Kitchen Manager laughs. Picks up a handful of lentils and pops them in his mouth. Chews, then grabs another handful. Well, at least they’re cooked perfectly, he chuckles over his shoulder. Cryovac them and put them away. Not too shabby.
Good times.
But the moral is: Mind your lentils, kids.
Arugula Salad with Roasted Carrots and Lentils
(serves 1)
LENTILS:
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. each finely-minced onion, carrot, and celery
¼ cup dried French lentils
Water
VINAIGRETTE (this is a fairly dry salad; double or triple the vinaigrette, if you know you'll want more)
1 clove roasted garlic, with oil (directions follow), mashed
2 tsp. honey
A generous tablespoon apple cider vinegar (maybe a splash more than a tablespoon; use it to taste)
1 tbsp. olive oil
Salt and pepper
EVERYTHING ELSE:
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced thin on the bias
Olive oil
2 tbsp. slivered almonds, toasted
2 tbsp. crumbled blue cheese
2 tbsp. dried cranberries
1 ½ cups arugula
Salt and pepper
DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Lay a clove of garlic on a square of aluminum foil. Drizzle with a scant tablespoon of olive oil. Wrap tightly, then place in oven. Roast for about 15-20 minutes, or until softened and lightly browned. Set aside to cool briefly.
Toss carrots with olive oil, salt, and pepper; arrange in a single layer on one side of a sheet pan. Roast until tender and caramelized, about 20 minutes (depending on their thickness; mine were pretty thin, and they took about 15 minutes. Just test them every now and then.)
Lentils: Meanwhile, heat the olive oil over medium heat in a small pot. Add the diced veggies; cook about 2 minutes. Add the lentils, then cover with about 2 cups of water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer about 20 minutes, or until lentils are firm but tender, then drain.
Vinaigrette: Combine the garlic clove and oil from roasting with the other vinaigrette ingredients. Season to taste.
In a large bowl, combine arugula, lentils, carrots; set aside to let arugula wilt. Toss everything with the vinaigrette, then season to taste with salt and pepper.
This might be my favorite of any meal I've made so far.
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