Lentil

Megadarra is immensely popular in Egypt, as it is all over the Arab world (elsewhere it is pronounced mujadra and sometimes called mudardara). It is a modern version of a medieval dish called mujadarra, described by al-Baghdadi (see appendix) as a dish of the poor, and still referred to as Esau’s favorite. In fact, it is such a favorite that, although it is said to be for misers, it is a compliment to serve it. An aunt of mine used to present it regularly to guests with the comment “Excuse the food of the poor!”—to which the unanimous reply always was: “Keep your food of kings and give us megadarra every day!” The proportions of lentils and rice vary with every family. Large quantities of dark, caramelized onions are the best part. It is served either warm or cold, as a mezze or as part of a light meal, usually accompanied by yogurt.

Serve this creamy soup with thin Lebanese flat bread cut into triangles, opened out, brushed with olive oil, and toasted in the oven until crisp.

This can be eaten hot or at room temperature, like a pasta salad. The tagliatelle is usually cooked in the same water as the lentils, which gives the pasta a pleasant earthy color and flavor, but you can also boil them separately.

Harira is the generic term for a soup full of pulses—chickpeas, lentils, or beans—with little meat, few vegetables, and plenty of herbs and spices. Every day during the holy month of Ramadan, when Muslims fast between sunrise and sunset, the smell of this soup permeates the streets as every household prepares its own version to be eaten when the sound of the cannon signals the breaking of the fast. While ingredients and spices vary, a particular feature is the way it is given what is described in Morocco as a “velvety” touch by stirring in a sourdough batter or simply flour mixed with water. In the cities in Morocco, it serves as a one-dish evening meal, and in rural areas it is also eaten as breakfast before peasants go out to work in the fields. During Ramadan, it is served with lemon quarters and accompanied by dates and honeyed pastries. The soup can be made a long time in advance, but if you are adding the tiny bird’s-tongue pasta—douida in Morocco (you find it in Middle Eastern stores), orzo in Italian stores (or you can use broken vermicelli)—these should be added only about 10 to 15 minutes before you are ready to serve, otherwise they will get bloated and mushy. I have given measurements for a large quantity because it is a rich, substantial soup that you might like to serve as a one-dish meal at a party. The best cuts of meat to use are shoulder or neck fillet.

Rice and lentils make perfect pilaf partners because they can be cooked together and are done simultaneously.

Lentils and spinach both marry well with curry spices. Each complements the other’s flavor, too.

There’s something appropriate about pairing feta cheese and lentils—perhaps it’s the mingling of the salty and peppery flavors.

Lentils and pasta are a traditional pairing in Italian cooking, and most of the regions in the southern part of the boot enjoy pasta con lenticchie in some form, usually in soups. In this dish, which I was served in Basilicata, the lentils were cooked with other vegetables into a sauce that served as a delicious dressing for rigatoni. It was excellent that way. This sauce seems to me even more delightful as a dressing for whole-wheat or barley pasta.

Legumes are a specialty of growers in L’Aquila, the big inland province of Abruzzo, and the pride of the region is the small, tender lentils grown in the mountain village of Santo Stefano di Sessanio. Since my recent visit to this remote, rugged settlement, I have had no doubt that it was in just such a place that this hearty and warming winter soup, thick with lentils and chestnuts, was created. These native foods, so good together, can surely sustain one through long cold winters in the high country. Unfortunately, the delicious lenticchie of Santo Stefano di Sessanio are a limited commodity and not available here. Instead, I recommend using lentils from Castelluccio in Umbria (see Sources, page 387) in this soup. Ordinary lentils are fine as well, though some larger types may need soaking or longer cooking time. Chestnuts, grown along the length of the Apennines, are also essential to Abruzzese cuisine. In season, they’re enjoyed in everything from pastas to desserts, and then, like lentils, dried for winter cooking or milled into flour. Though this soup can be made with fresh (or frozen) chestnuts, I use dried chestnuts, as is often the case in Abruzzo. These are available year-round and spare you the work of peeling. I also like the way they cook slowly without disintegrating, giving the soup a particularly nice texture. They do require an overnight soak, however, before you start cooking.

This dish is a very satisfying vegetarian main course, as well as a good contorno for grilled sausages, chicken, or lamb chops. Leftover lentils can be turned into a delicious soup with the simple addition of some flavorful stock, or you can incorporate the lentils into risotto or another rice dish.

This savory, thick lentil spread is a great topping for a crostino, especially when made with tiny, firm lenticchie di Castelluccio, which give the mouth-feel of caviar. It can also serve as a fine side dish for any grilled meat, or as the base for risotto or soup. Then again, with the addition of crumbled sausage, it would make a great pasta sauce. So get creative: make a double batch of the lentil topping here, and have fun with all the leftovers.

Lentils and rice are one of my favorite combinations. I fondly recall savoring a dish just like this often as a child; it was comforting and nurturing. It can be enjoyed in many ways: make it dense like risotto or add more liquid to make it soupy. Just rice and lentils are delicious and simple, but you could easily add a few sausages or pork ribs to the pot to make quite a festive main dish.

Boneless chicken breasts team up with chewy nutrient-packed grains, lentils, and greens in this sweet and zesty weeknight meal.

I adore lentils, particularly the green French variety, as well as the little black ones, sometimes known as beluga lentils because of their resemblance to caviar. Both of these types hold their shape better than the typical brown lentil, and their nutty texture and flavor are divine. This is my favorite fall salad, made a bit indulgent with the addition of prosciutto. I first made this for an autumnal baby shower, and it was a major hit. The earthiness of the lentils and prosciutto plays wonderfully off the color and sweetness of autumn's bounty of peppers. This salad works equally well with meat, chicken, or fish. Best of all, it can be served at room temperature, and tastes even better the next day. So, make the salad the day before, heat up the grill, pop a few corks, and enjoy the sunshine! Serve this earthy salad alongside the duck breasts with a glass of Russian River Pinot Noir.

Sometimes you gotta take a break from the hard-core carnivordom, and these are the way to go—just ask our staff, who eat them around the clock. These balls happen to be Mike's favorite too. You'll often find us at the bar with a big bowl, topped with Classic Tomato Sauce or Spinach Basil Pesto and a side of steamed or sautéed spinach. And when it comes to kids, this is a great and tasty way to sneak in more veggies.

This is my version of harira, the national soup of Morocco, which shows up in unending variations from city to city, street stall to street stall, and family to family. It can be vegan, vegetarian, or made with meat—usually lamb. Some cooks add chickpeas, chicken gizzards, or broken-up bits of angel hair pasta. But the result is always unmistakably harira, and that's what makes it so comforting and satisfying. Harira has the inexplicable quality of being both light and filling at the same time, making you feel perfectly content. That's why, besides being the national soup, it's also a religious institution: it's what every family in Morocco eats to break their daily fast all through the monthlong observance of Ramadan. All over the country, for an entire month of sunsets, the first thing the entire population tastes is harira, and breaking the fast with anything else would be like serving Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. During Ramadan here in the States, I fast all day, even though I keep up my normal schedule, shopping in the farmers' market and working in the kitchen. As soon as the sun goes down, I step away from my expediting station and have a quick bowlful of harira to get me through the evening. And on days off, I take home a quart of it to break the fast at my house. The first time you make this, try making a light meal of it, with just some bread and maybe a simple salad. You'll understand what I'm talking about. It's weirdly, wonderfully satisfying—in a way that fills your soul more than your stomach. I make harira with water, not stock, because I think this vegetarian (actually, vegan) version is lighter and cleaner tasting, but you can make it with chicken or lamb stock or half stock and half water. While its flavor is very true to the original, I've played with its preparation. For example, I cook the lentils separately, to keep them from breaking down too much. (My mom called that crazy, but she smiled when she tasted the result.) And if you cook them in the soup, they darken the cooking liquid and give the soup a muddy appearance. The yeast-and-flour mixture is my version of the traditional starter made from fermented flour and water, used exclusively for harira, that you'll find in every Moroccan kitchen. It's easier to manage but has the same effect as that sourdough original, thickening and lightening the soup, and keeping it from separating, while adding a rich, tangy flavor. I wanted to give people a little crunch without adding an extra element, so I took the celery out of its usual place in the sautéed soup base and reintroduced it at the end as a raw garnish. In Morocco, harira is classically served with dates, which add sweetness to balance the soup's acidity. Taste it without the dates, and then try it with them. You'll find it's an entirely different experience. When I first started serving this soup at the restaurant, I'd accompany it with a few beautiful (and expensive) California Medjools on the side. The dates kept coming back uneaten. People just didn't get the idea of savory soup and sweet dates, which drove me nuts. So I thought of a way to work the dates into the soup, rolling them into little balls and adding them as a garnish. People get it now. The date balls are never left uneaten. They're a part of the bigger idea, as they should be. This makes a big batch. That's how I always do it, even at home, because we love to eat it over several nights, and it keeps for up to a week.

Rasam is an immensely popular South Indian soup. The word rasam, in the Tamil language, means "essence," or "juice," and has come to mean a particular type of soup that includes the tartness of tamarind or tomatoes. The ingredients used in rasam vary, but it is basically a light, spicy soup. The spiciness can be adjusted to your taste. At times I add vegetables to make this soup a complete meal.

Adas Polo
This is a delicious, nutritious dish that can be served as a vegetarian meal or accompanied by lamb, chicken or Miniature meatballs. In Shiraz, in southern Iran, it is traditionally cooked without raisins and dates, especially when accompanied by chicken or meat. However, the combination of green lentils, raisins and dates creates a very good vegetarian dish. It is a useful recipe as the ingredients are available all year round. It is not time-consuming to prepare and cook and the result is very rewarding.

This surprising spin on salad features lentils; their fiber can help lower your blood cholesterol and risk for diabetes.