I love lentils.
I’m sure I can try to think of something more humble, demure, unassuming, and generally wallfloweresque in the kingdom of eating, but few things could really compete in any of those departments with the delightfully simple lentil.
And yet, lentils are protein and fiber powerhouses– they can help sustain the traditional vegetarian diet in India, for instance.
And they don’t take presoaking, like their diva cousins the beans do. They just take some simmering for 20 minutes or so, and they are ready to fill your belly with creamy, nutty goodness.
They have their own taste, but they yield graciously to whatever spices you use. They are at ease with just salt and pepper, but they can also tolerate spicy curries and sauces.
To see them in the supermarket is possibly an underwhelming an event as any you can witness: they hide (just in case you didn’t know) in the dried grain or bulk sections. Most people know only the “boring” brownish ones, although they come in a wide spectrum of colors –from inky black to delicate salmon pink.
They are cheap.
They are sometimes dirty, and sometimes chipped and unkempt.
But a dinner of lentils can cheer the body whole.
I’m buying lentil seeds.
My two-week hiatus, despite my husband’s best efforts with watering, has left my little container garden looking parched and sullen. Somehow I feel like a guilty mother who let her child watch too much television or allowed him to drink too much soda. Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy for pushing a little garden that doesn’t stand a chance with the intense heat it gets. But then I find a little place that sells lentil seeds and I just have to give it one more try.
And maybe the humble lentil will restore my faith in growing things.
Blogging while sleepy again. Ho-ly crap.
Ignore my cheeztastic title pun.