Edible gravel for a winter of cuddles
A recipe for Green Lentils Remoulade
They’re small and unassuming but there’s something deeply comforting about lentils. They may look like the tiny pebbles that emerge from your shoe following a furtive pilgrimage to the shop around the corner. But a good lentil dish will soothe a soul just as much as the chocolate bar you slipped out for. (Although, on reflection, that’s probably debatable.)
But it’s definitely more cuddly.
The world’s oldest cultivated legume, lentils have sustained the morale and well-being of nations from Ireland to India for aeons. Fibrous little beads, they’re a cheap source of protein. They’re also a conveyance of vitamin B and various minerals, in particular potassium. In the US, where consumption of processed foods and ready-meals is high and sales of fresh produce are low, only 2 percent of eaters meet their daily requirement of potassium. Vital to the body, potassium is not to be avoided. A type of electrolyte, it keeps the heartbeat regular, the muscles contracting, and the nerves functioning. Bananas are high in potassium but if you’re not a fan, eat lentils.
Given their status as staple of the cuisines of the Indian subcontinent, you might assume that region is the source of supply. 58 percent of global production is indeed provided by India, together with…Canada.
Lentils were first domesticated in the area spanning Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel, Jordan and Egypt. The oldest known evidence of them, dated to 11,000 BC, was found in a cave in Argolis in Greece. Eventually, they spread from the Middle East to North Africa and Europe.
Lentils cook quickly, particularly the red ones, so are economical with fuel, something to consider with rocketing gas prices. With pressure to reduce our consumption of meat, and the quality of the nourishment from our field-grown produce diminishing, we should look at what legumes and pulses can offer us.
Jolly seeds, there are four main kinds - red, yellow, green and brown. The two former are the most common in the kitchens of the Indian subcontinent. Stewed with garlic, ginger, and spices, they form the backbone of an abundance of different dhals, recipes for which are worth researching, to scoop up with rotis or naan and eat with a variety of vegetable or meat curries.
Before you reach to Comment, yes, there also exists the black lentil, named Beluga after the caviar. But while it is highly revered, with an ancient history, it isn’t a lentil at all. It’s an urad bean, grown in South Asia. It’s sold whole, but when split becomes known as the white lentil after its creamy interior.
Britain’s favourite yellow lentils aren’t lentils either. Nor should they be confused with Indian yellow lentils. They come from peeled and dried green peas, so more correctly are called ‘split peas’. With a strong affinity for anything piggy, these make the base of ham-hock-and-lentil winter soup inspired by ‘Snert’, the dried-green-peas-and-ham soup traditional in the Netherlands whose name might forgivably put you off eating it. (You’ll be missing a treat.) In both these potages, more quickly cooked red lentils are often substituted for the dried peas.
Green and brown lentils are the lentils most used in European cuisine. Brown lentils, more robust in flavour, were the frequent foundation of sturdy vegetarian dishes of the 1960s. They were a mainstay of stews at Cranks, the vegetarian restaurant launched in 1961 on London’s Carnaby Street, a major influence in the development of vegetarianism in Britain.
Green lentils, cultivated widely across Europe, Asia and North Africa, make a more elegant ingredient. The very best of them, almost blue in colour and cultivated without fertilizer or watering, are the smaller and most expensive French Lentilles de Puy.
Genuine Lentilles de Puy come with a Protected Designation of Origin identification to confirm that only lentils carrying the label come from the prefecture of Le Puy in the Auvergne region, which allows them to be sold at higher prices than other lentils. They’ve been grown there for over 2000 years, the area’s volcanic soil said to give them their unique peppery flavour. Citizens of Le-Puy-en-Velay eat them on the first of the month, for prosperity during the rest of it.
They’re beloved of Michelin chefs who pair them successfully with both duck breasts and fillets of salmon. For a side dish, stew them gently in a good stock with a bay leaf over gentle heat with a saucepan lid on a slant (more liquid added if they are drying out), until cooked through but not mushy. Just before serving, throw in a small glass of Cognac (obviously this is optional, but makes a huge difference) and stir. For non-vegetarians, a folding in at the last minute of a crumble of crisped bacon adds depth.
The fact they hold their shape makes them suitable, too, for salads. Toss them while warm in a mustardy vinaigrette and pile onto a platter lined with leaves of mache (Lamb’s Lettuce) to serve at room temperature. If you’re not vegetarian, you might fold in well-fried lardons (cubes of fatty bacon) for added smokiness, using the fat they have released as the ‘oil’ of your vinaigrette.
What you cook them with will elevate their glory. Butter conveys a creaminess that olive oil won’t. A finely diced mirepoix of equal amounts of finely diced onion, garlic, carrots and celery (celery haters, leave it out or replace with fennel root, though it won’t be as rounded in flavour) will add extra depth.
Use regular, cheaper green lentils in dishes where it doesn’t matter if some of the cooked lentils don’t held their shape. For a soothing soup, soften a mirepoix in butter, add the lentils and stew gently with a bay leaf in stock or water coming 4cms/2ins above the lentils till tender then remove half the lentils and blitz them to a puree. Pour them back into the pan with the whole lentils. Add half a litre/1 pint more stock or water to thin to soup consistency. To serve, trickle over a little thin cream and pass a bowl of garlicky croutons.
Left-over cooked lentils may be added to a quantity of mashed potato, rolled into half-sausage sized lozenges and then into a little flour or breadcrumbs and gently fried. Now you’ve made a croquette that British grandmothers will have called a rissole, although those traditionally incorporated left-over minced/ground meat, from a shepherd’s pie, for instance. (Don’t mention this out loud, but these go wonderfully with iconic HP Sauce named after the Houses of Parliament, a saliva-inducing bottled brown ketchup of predominantly malt vinegar, tomatoes and tamarind - the kind of aliment that gave British food its woeful reputation. Sublime.)
Or use Lentilles de Puy to make this delicious ‘ragout’, which can serve either as a side dish with slices of smoked Polish or good country sausages, or as a meal in itself with a green salad and warm crusty baguette.
Follow the method for the soup above but cover the lentils with stock or water only to 2cm/1in above them. Drain off any remaining liquid. (If there’s a lot, pour it into a mug for a lunch soup the following day, adding a couple of tablespoons of lentils to it). Top with a generous dollop of a faux-Rémoulade sauce made from good quality bought mayonnaise, lightly flavoured with Dijon mustard, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a teaspoon of generic curry powder. Sprinkle with crisply fried shallots (you can buy these in Asian supermarkets) and serve while warm.
This week’s pub quiz question: What nationality is Sauce Rémoulade?
Pub quiz answer: Sauce Rémoulade may sound French. But it’s Danish.
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