January 2024. The wedding year. Three months until Luis Jr. and Andrea marry at St. Patrick's Cathedral, and the kitchen is already planning, and the planning is the cooking, and the cooking is the love, and the love is every ingredient I will put into the tres leches cake and the enchiladas and the tamales and the conchas that will sit on the tables as centerpieces, because bread on tables is what the Gutierrez family does instead of flowers, because flowers wilt and bread feeds, and feeding is more important than wilting.
I made the practice cake. The full dress rehearsal: four tiers, vanilla and almond sponge, soaked in the three milks, frosted with whipped cream, decorated by Sofia with sugar flowers and a delicate scroll that says "Luis & Ana Cristina" in cursive. The practice cake was beautiful. It was also delicious — the family ate it for dinner (cake for dinner, because the practice cake deserves to be eaten and eating it for dinner is the ultimate test of a wedding cake: would you eat this for dinner? If yes, it is a good cake. If no, it is decoration, not food, and the Gutierrez family does not do decoration). The cake passed the dinner test. Sofia said: "The scroll needs to be two points larger." I said: "It's perfect." She said: "Perfection is two points larger." She is seventeen. Perfection is two points larger. I have no rebuttal.
Isabella is in her junior year of nursing — 4.0, clinical rotations in the NICU, the babies, the tiny ones. She told me this week that she saved a baby. Not dramatically — not the movie version of saving, with alarms and running and shouting — but the quiet version: she noticed a change in a baby's breathing pattern, alerted the attending nurse, and the attending nurse intervened, and the baby stabilized, and Isabella's observation was the difference between the stabilizing and the not-stabilizing. She told me at the dinner table with the flat delivery that is Isabella's emotional register, and I said: "You saved a baby." She said: "I noticed a breathing pattern." I said: "That's the same thing." She said: "I know." She knows. Rosa knows. The chain knows. The hands that hold dough and the hands that hold babies are the same hands, doing the same work, which is the work of attention, which is the work of love.
I made sopa de lentejas — the January comfort, the budget soup, the lentil soup of wedding years and ordinary years and every year in between, because lentil soup does not discriminate between years — it nourishes all of them equally, and the equality is the soup, and the soup is the January, and January is the beginning, and the beginning is the lentil, small and humble and containing everything.
The sopa de lentejas I wrote about up there — that January soup — is one face of the lentil, the brothy, slow-simmered face that asks nothing of you but time and a warm stove. But the lentil has another face, a sturdier one, the kind that wraps itself in a tortilla and feeds a household that is half-distracted by cake tiers and nursing rotations and calligraphy scrolls that need to be two points larger. These Lentil Burritos became my weeknight answer to the wedding year: enough protein to keep Sofia’s hands steady at the piping bag, enough comfort to sit across from Isabella at the table and just be her mother for twenty minutes. The lentil, in any form, does not discriminate. It nourishes all of us equally.
Lentil Burritos
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 cup dry green or brown lentils, rinsed
- 2 1/2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 small yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, drained
- 1 cup cooked brown rice
- 6 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
- 1 cup shredded Mexican blend cheese
- 1/2 cup sour cream, for serving
- 1/2 cup salsa, for serving
- 1 avocado, sliced, for serving
- Fresh cilantro, chopped, for garnish
Instructions
- Cook the lentils. Combine rinsed lentils and vegetable broth in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 25–30 minutes until lentils are tender and most of the liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and set aside.
- Sauté the aromatics. While lentils cook, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add diced onion and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent. Add garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Build the filling. Stir in cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper. Cook for 30 seconds to bloom the spices. Add the drained diced tomatoes with chiles and stir to combine. Cook for 3–4 minutes until the mixture is slightly thickened.
- Combine lentils and filling. Add the cooked lentils and brown rice to the skillet. Stir everything together and cook for 2–3 minutes until heated through and well mixed. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
- Warm the tortillas. Wrap the flour tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30–45 seconds, or warm them individually in a dry skillet over medium heat for 20 seconds per side.
- Assemble the burritos. Lay a warm tortilla flat. Spoon about 3/4 cup of the lentil filling down the center, leaving a 2-inch border on each side. Sprinkle with a generous pinch of shredded cheese.
- Roll and serve. Fold in the sides of the tortilla, then roll tightly from the bottom up to enclose the filling. Place seam-side down on a plate. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling. Serve with sour cream, salsa, avocado slices, and fresh cilantro.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 61g | Fiber: 12g | Sodium: 620mg