LENTIL SOUP

We’ve finally had a couple of days in a row with temperatures approaching the freezing mark -- where God only knows they should be in New York in mid-winter – so I’ve decided The Inspired Chef better swoop into immediate action and make some soup before the tropical breezes return to our fair Empire State.

I started by calling my friend Jan to get her recipe for lentil soup, which Bob and I taste-tested at her home a couple of weeks earlier. When I reached her on the phone last Tuesday and asked her how to make it, she said, “First, you cook some lentils in chicken broth and add carrots, celery, chickpeas and some onions sautéed with garlic. Then you…”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “How much of each?”

I had to really push her to get amounts because, as it turns out, she didn’t have a written-down recipe. “Then you bring it to a boil and let it simmer for about an hour or so, add some canned diced tomatoes, and season it with cayenne pepper, cumin, garam masala, and cardamom.”

Again, I stopped her and asked for quantities, but I couldn’t pin her down. “You add about a teaspoon of each of the spices, maybe a little less for the pepper, but taste it and you’ll see,” she said. One last question about whether or not to soak the lentils must have pushed my friend to her limit, and she blurted out, “Laura, are you The Inspired Chef or The Retarded Chef?”

I tried not to take offense. In reality, I think I’m a little of both. I love to cook but I didn’t grow up sitting on the counter watching my mother or grandmothers prepare their favorite dishes. As I mentioned before, I had a German housekeeper, who, while she lovingly helped to raise me, also basically banned me and my mom from entering the kitchen while she was cooking, The result is that I’ve had a late start on the culinary trail and therefore still need exact measurements, not estimates, when I’ve got my chef’s hat on.

The soup turned out pretty well if I do say so myself, although it was a little too spicy for my children’s palettes and I didn’t love the sweet licorice-y aftertaste, which I think was due to an overdose of cardamom. For my second attempt, I decided to go online and search for a recipe similar to Jan’s with detailed cooking directions. On http://www.allrecipes.com/ I found a great one for “Moroccan Lentil Soup,” which I’ll share with you below.

That was an excellent vegetarian-style option, but I also love the smoky, meaty flavor of French lentil soup. My grandmother used to make it all the time for our family when we went over to her house for Sunday night dinners. The soup, which had a deliciously hearty aroma and little pieces of what I thought were hot dogs floating around in a thick brown pool of lentils, was so good that I always had seconds and then scraped the bottom of the bowl with my spoon to make sure I got every last drop.

My grandmother passed away last year, but I knew that my Uncle Bill had all her hand-written recipes in a bound book. I e-mailed him and asked him to send me the one for lentil soup. Two days later I opened the envelope he mailed me to find a copied sheet of the book’s cover, titled “The Personal Recipes of Martha J. Joseph,” with a second sheet filled with my grandmother’s instantly recognizable loopy script detailing the preparation of her soup.

Now, I have many Jewish friends whose grandparents kept kosher all their lives, but mine was not one of them. My grandmother, once a student at the Sorbonne and a lifelong devotee of Julia Child, was a big fan of pork and this recipe’s no exception. Her lentil soup’s got the trifecta – a ham bone, garlic sausage, and bacon fat. For the record, I found this “porkfest” a little overwhelming. I like to be health-conscious when I cook, so while I was willing to throw in a ham bone (or ham hock) to flavor the soup, when I read the words “Heat 1 Tbsp. bacon fat. Fry sliced garlic sausage (knockers) lightly,” I thought to myself, “Is this really necessary?”

In order to honor my grandmother and also to look for a more heart-healthy alternative, I decided to make her exact recipe with the bacon fat and another version without it. Also, I couldn’t find anything labeled garlic sausage at any of the area supermarkets, so I did some research (including a phone call to my uncle) and found that the best substitute would be turkey kielbasa, followed by Hebrew National beef franks.

Yesterday, right after my morning yoga class, I headed over to the local A & P grocery store. Of course, as I was walking down the meat aisle, whom should I run into but one of the head “machas” of the area’s United Jewish Appeal. Catching me red-handed picking up a ham-hock, she asked me what I was making. Without thinking, I said, “I’m going to make my grandmother’s lentil soup recipe.” “Ohhhh,” she said with raised eyebrows. Then it hit me, this was probably something that I shouldn’t have admitted. Already, most people I meet can’t believe I’m Jewish. With my blond hair, fair skin and preppy clothing, plus being from the Midwest and a member of the Junior League to boot, most of my New York Jewish friends insist I’m an impostor. So, this chance encounter in the meat aisle wasn’t going to bolster my reputation. “Oh well,” I thought to myself, “I guess I’m not going to be invited to host a UJA community event anytime soon, lest I might serve the guests a suckling pig on a spit.”

It was mid-morning by the time I got home, so I dropped the ham hock into one of my big pots and added a couple quarts of water, plus the lentils, a grated clove of garlic, some chopped up celery and onion, tomato juice and a bay leaf. Then I let the soup simmer for an hour and a half while I returned phone calls and knocked off about 20 other items from my to-do list.

A half an hour before I had to be out the door, I removed the soup from the burner and let it cool a bit. I took out my bacon and fried up a few pieces so that I could get a tablespoon of the fat for my later kielbasa encounter. Hoping that I didn’t smell like “eau du pork,” I put the soup in a plastic container, stuck it in my garage refrigerator to chill for the afternoon, and headed out to meet some friends for lunch.

Shortly before dinner time, I started the final preparations. First, I skimmed the gelled-up fat from the top of the soup and pulled the ham hock out. Removing the meat from the bone, I shredded it up and returned it to the soup. Then I put the soup back on the range and poured half of it into another pot and started heating them both. The next step was to put the bacon fat in my skillet and add a few sliced-up turkey kielbasas. After they browned a bit, I scooped them out of the pan and added them to one of the pots.

I removed all but one tablespoon of the remaining fat from the pan and then, as directed by my grandmother’s voice, added “a tablespoon of flour and some of the soup gradually.” I could almost hear her say, “Take your time dear, don’t rush these things.” Listening to her advice, I slowly stirred the mixture until it got thick and then returned it to the first pot, which was now complete.

For pot number two, I fried the turkey kielbasa on its own with no fat and added it to the pot, also omitting the addition of the extra fat and flour concoction. Honestly, maybe the soup with the bacon fat had a tiny bit more of a smoky flavor, but it was hardly noticeable, making me vote to leave it out the next time I make the soup. Hopefully, my grandmother is looking down from above and understands!


MOROCCAN LENTIL SOUP
From http://www.allrecipes.com/

2 onions chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
6 cups water
1 cup red lentils
1 (15 ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained
1 (19 ounce) can cannellini beans
1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes
½ cup diced carrots
½ cup chopped celery
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 ½ teaspoons cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (*I recommend starting with 1/4 teaspoon and adding
more if you want it any hotter)
½ teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon olive oil

1. In a large pot sauté the onions, garlic and ginger in a little olive oil for about 5 minutes.
2. Add the water, lentils, chick peas, white kidney beans, diced tomatoes, carrots, celery, garam masala, cardamom, cayenne pepper and cumin. Bring to a boil for a few minutes then simmer for 1 to 1 ½ hours or longer, until the lentils are soft.
3. Puree half the soup in a food processor or blender. Return the pureed soup to the pot, stir and enjoy!


LENTIL SOUP
From the personal recipes of Martha J. Joseph

A piece of smoked meat or a ham bone (if the former, cook for one hour in water before adding lentils, etc.)
2 quarts cold water
1 package of lentils (rinsed and picked)
1 cup tomato juice
½ cup diced celery
1 finely chopped onion
1 bay leaf
1 grated garlic clove (optional)
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
Knockers (garlic sausages)
Bacon fat

Cook slowly for 1 ½ hours. Chill. Remove meat and bone, and skim fat from pot. Heat 1 tablespoon bacon fat. Fry sliced garlic sausage (knockers) lightly and add to soup. Remove all but 1 tablespoon fat from pan, add 1 tablespoon flour and some of the soup gradually. Mix with remaining soup. Season. A touch of vinegar may be added. Serve hot. If too thick, add water.