How to Cook Lentils -- The Act of Making Something When There Is Nothing Else to Do

I've been in Las Cruces for a week. The house fills and empties — family comes, Patricia from El Paso, Miguel from across town, cousins and aunts and the women from Gloria's church who bring casseroles and sit in the living room and speak in low voices. The house that I grew up in is full of the sounds of people who are trying to say the right thing and can't, because there is no right thing. Ruben's wife Marisol is here with their son Alejandro, who is two and doesn't know what is happening and keeps saying "Daddy?" in a way that is the most unbearable sound I've ever heard.

My father doesn't speak much. He sits at the kitchen table and holds his coffee cup and sometimes he and I sit together for an hour without words. This is how Hector grieves — inward, quiet, very still. I grieve outward and loud in the normal course of things, but something about being in this house has made me still too. We are all very still.

The food keeps coming. I understand this now more than I ever have. People bring food because they need to do something and they can't undo death and they can give you a casserole and that act contains a love that has no other container. I have said thank you fifty times. I have accepted dishes I haven't looked at. I have watched my mother receive food from the hands of her friends and respond with grace that I don't have right now and may not get back for a while.

Gloria is cooking every day. Not for anyone in particular — for the pot, for the act of it. Green chile stew. Posole. Red chile enchiladas. The kitchen has been producing food continuously for a week and I think it will continue as long as she needs it to, which may be a long time. I cooked with her on Wednesday — stood at the stove and cut onions and added chile while she directed, same as I've done since I was six. She didn't look at me while she directed. She looked at the stove. I kept cutting. We made something. It was enough to do.

The memorial service is Thursday. I'm supposed to speak. I have no idea what I'll say.

Gloria didn’t make lentils that week, but she could have — they’re the kind of thing she keeps in the pantry for exactly this: a pot that feeds whoever is sitting at the table, that asks nothing of you except that you stand over the stove for a while and stir. When I got home, I made them. Not because I was hungry. Because I needed somewhere to put my hands, the same way she needed the green chile, the posole, the act of directing me while she stared at the flame. This recipe is as plain and honest as that week was, and that is exactly the point.

How to Cook Lentils

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 cups green or brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 medium carrots, diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 4 cups low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
• 2 cups water
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• Fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped, for serving

Instructions

1. Rinse the lentils. Place lentils in a fine-mesh strainer and rinse under cold running water. Pick out any small stones or shriveled lentils. Set aside.
2. Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 6—8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
3. Bloom the spices. Add the cumin, smoked paprika, turmeric, and black pepper directly to the pot. Stir constantly for about 30 seconds, until the spices are fragrant and lightly toasted against the bottom of the pot.
4. Add lentils and liquid. Pour in the rinsed lentils, broth, and water. Add the bay leaf and 1 teaspoon kosher salt. Stir to combine and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
5. Simmer until tender. Reduce heat to low, partially cover, and simmer for 25—30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lentils are fully tender but not mushy. Add a splash of water if the pot gets too thick.
6. Finish and adjust. Remove the bay leaf. Stir in the lemon juice and taste for salt. For a thicker, creamier texture, use the back of a spoon to mash a portion of the lentils against the side of the pot and stir them back in.
7. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley or cilantro. Serve with crusty bread, warm tortillas, or over rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 225 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 13g | Sodium: 370mg