Lentil

Here’s a soup to warm your heart even on the bleakest day of winter. Use it as a guideline, and make your own innovations according to what you have on hand. The beans are very nourishing, the meat accent lends heartiness, and the greens are healthy, giving balance and color. It’s interesting how cooks of the past just knew these things instinctively.

You may have one whole cooked chop that you couldn’t eat, or you may have only a few bites. It doesn’t matter—the meat is really just a garnish to the lentils.

Some people think of lentils only in terms of soup, but you can do a lot with the lowly lentil. Here I go for a classic flavor combo and add some beautiful bacon into the mix . . . as I always say, everything tastes better with bacon!

This hearty vegetarian stew has special memories for me. I used to make it almost every day when I was broke, back when I was trying to open my first restaurant. And yet I never get tired of it. This dish has layers of flavors, comes together pretty rapidly, and leaves you fully satisfied.

Quick-cooking red lentils have a sweet, mild flavor that pairs well with rich paprika.

This ginger- and licorice-flavored soup chock-full of greens is a gratifying supper any time of year.

The warmth of this salad brings out the best flavors of the ingredients: mellow lentils, sharp escarole, aromatic fennel, and rich, crunchy walnuts. (See photo)

There must be as many recipes for chili as there are cooks. This one has the surprising addition of lentils and the smoky spiciness of chipotles.

Because lentils cook quickly, they’re ideal for a simple supper. This thick, earthy stew, chock-full of protein, is most satisfying on a chilly fall or winter evening.

This recipe makes a lot, but the dish tastes even better the second day and lends itself well to variations. For instance, you can warm the leftovers and serve them in whole-grain pita pockets or add 1 tablespoon fat-free Italian or balsamic vinaigrette and 1/2 cup chopped raw vegetables to every 1/2 cup cooked and chilled red lentils.

This eclectic pilaf is a real time-saver. You need to spend only about five minutes to get it going, then you can leave it alone to cook while you do other things—and you’ll have just one pan to wash.

This, like bean- and potato-based soups, can be made ahead, but will thicken a lot. The best bet, if you plan to make the soup in advance, is to reheat it slowly, adding water or stock as needed to restore the soup to its original thickness. And always check the seasoning of reheated soups before you serve them.

When Violette Corcos Abulafia Tapieri Budestchu makes this spice-scented lentil dish, its subtle flavors bring back memories of the Morocco of her childhood. Now, when her grandchildren or great-grandchildren prepare it, it smells like afternoons and evenings they spent when they were growing up, visiting her in her apartments in Jerusalem or near Avenue Victor Hugo in Paris. Born in Mogador, Madame “Granny” Budestchu, a fabulous cook, is descended from Kabbalists, prominent merchants, and royal counselors to the sultans and kings of Morocco. Her recipes, traveling from country to country, like the path of the Jews, can be traced back at least to twelfth-century Spain. When she makes this dish, she grinds each spice separately with the mortar and pestle that she brought with her to Paris in the 1940s, enlivening the spices with the fresh tastes of mint and cilantro leaves.

Guy Weyl was a little boy during World War II, when his parents fled the Nazis, first hiding in the Dordogne and then crossing the border into Spain when France became too dangerous. They then went to Portugal, and from there took a boat to New York, where they stayed through the rest of the war. The whole time Guy was in the United States, he missed the green lentils from France. During the war, lentils were just beginning to gain popularity in New York as a wartime alternative to meat, but they still were not the delicacy they were in France. So, when Guy returned to France and went to school, he was thrilled to eat lentils again, but his schoolmates laughed at his fondness for them, because that was all they had had to eat during the war. This hasn’t lessened his ardor for the tiny green pulses, and Guy’s wife, Eveline, makes a wonderful lentil salad.

Eveline Weyl remembers growing up in France with a green-wheat soup, served every Friday evening. “We called it gruen kern or soupe au blé vert, and it was made, basically, by simmering onions and carrots and using green wheat to thicken the broth,” she told me. “My mother said it was very healthy for us children.” I asked all over for a recipe for this dish but couldn’t find one. Then, watching a Tunisian videographer from Paris taking photographs of his mother making soup, I realized that the soup Tunisians call shorbat freekeh, made with parched wheat, is nearly the same as the green-wheat soup for which I had been searching. Young green wheat is available at select health-food stores these days, and made into juice. Ferik or freekeh is the parched substitute. I like this soup so much that I often use barley, bulgur, wheat berries, or lentils if I can’t find the green wheat. In fourteenth-century Arles, Jews ate many different kinds of grains and legumes. Chickpeas, which came from the Middle East, and green wheat were probably two of them. The original recipe for this soup called for lamb bones, but I prefer a vegetarian version. The tomato paste is, of course, a late addition.

We eat this very nutritious rice dish a lot and frequently serve it to our guests. It is almost a meal in itself, and may be served simply with Karhi, a yogurt sauce, and any vegetable you like.