Tomato Lentil Curry

The inventory chapter is unlike any other chapter in the book. It's a list — a real list, the one I keep on the clipboard in the kitchen door: jars of crushed tomatoes, jars of sauce, quarts of chicken stock, bags of elk in the freezer, firewood on the porch, hay in the barn, root vegetables in the cold room, the last of the apple butter. Against each item: enough, or not enough, or plenty, or almost.

I've been building the chapter around that list and what it means to keep it, which turns out to be a chapter about care. About the specific attention required to maintain a life, to walk through your own home and see what it has and what it needs and to do something about both. I didn't know when I started the book that this would be the emotional center of it. Sarah said when she read the draft: "Oh — this is what the whole book was building toward." I'm inclined to believe her.

The cold arrived this week. Real cold, the kind that makes you negotiate with the truck in the morning and walk with purpose rather than leisure. Patrick moved his morning coffee to the living room chair by the woodstove, which is his seasonal migration — kitchen from May to October, living room from November to April. I brought in the last of the firewood from the stack and re-covered it with the tarp and cut a new batch on Friday with the splitter, the work that makes your shoulders ache in a good and clarifying way.

Theo had his second session with Cole on Thursday. Cole says he asked to go faster. Chester obliged at a slow walk, which apparently felt to Theo like a gallop. Cole had to explain that "faster" and "more" aren't always the same thing, a lesson that took Theo about six seconds to accept because he's seven and already knew it in his body if not his words.

White bean and kale soup with smoked sausage this week — the deep winter soup, the one I make as soon as the temperature stays below freezing overnight. A big pot of it with bread. Simple food, the kind that has sustained people through northern winters for a very long time, for exactly the reason that it works.

The white bean and kale soup I mentioned is already spoken for in this house, folded into the season’s rhythm the way the woodstove chair is — it has its place and its time. But when I started thinking about what else belongs in that category of deep-winter food, food that works because it works, I kept coming back to this tomato lentil curry: one pot, pantry staples, the kind of meal that asks almost nothing of you on a cold Thursday evening and gives back considerably more than it takes. It belongs on the same shelf as that soup — food that has sustained people through northern winters for exactly the reason that it does what it says.

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

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil or coconut oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated (or 1 teaspoon ground ginger)
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons ground coriander
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (adjust to taste)
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 1/2 cups red lentils, rinsed
3 1/2 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 can (14 oz) coconut milk
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
Black pepper to taste
Juice of 1 lemon
Fresh cilantro or parsley, for serving
Crusty bread or rice, for serving

Instructions

Build the base. Heat oil in a large heavy pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger and cook for another minute until fragrant.
Bloom the spices. Add the cumin, coriander, turmeric, smoked paprika, and red pepper flakes directly to the pot. Stir constantly for about 60 seconds, letting the spices toast gently in the oil with the aromatics. This step builds the depth of the curry.
Add tomatoes and lentils. Pour in the crushed tomatoes and stir to combine, scraping up anything from the bottom of the pot. Add the rinsed lentils and broth. Stir everything together and bring to a boil.
Simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 20–25 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes or so, until the lentils are completely tender and have begun to break down into the broth, thickening the curry.
Finish with coconut milk. Pour in the coconut milk and stir to incorporate. Let the curry cook for another 5 minutes over low heat. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Squeeze in the lemon juice just before serving — it brightens the whole pot.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh cilantro or parsley. Serve alongside crusty bread for dunking or over steamed rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tomato Lentil Curry — The Soup That Knows What Winter Needs