Wild Rice, Sweet Potato, and Lentil Salad

I have, at long last, discovered something essential, something that everyone should be aware of — and maybe they are, and I’m just coming to the realization a bit too late.

I am responsible for my own happiness.

It’s a hurdle, for sure. Happiness seems so unattainable, so utopian. I remember my father, when I was small, used to ask me to gauge my own happiness on a scale of one to ten, and I never, ever, ever said ten.

There’s something about me — as an American, as a first-born in the birth order, as a perfectionist, as a former Andover student –, that wants to believe that I’m never truly happy, because otherwise, what’s the point of getting up in the morning? There’s nothing to work for, nothing to strive for.

In fact, I remember meeting a boy — a boy who has now been relegated to the “ancient history” category of life — who nevertheless gave me one of the most memorable of my personal mottos, “It’s about never being just content.”

Contentment versus happiness, content versus heureux. It’s an important distinction, for me, and I’ve kept it in the back of my mind (sometimes, admittedly, further back than others) for years.

I am, of course, aware that many people don’t feel like this. My husband is a Frenchman who is “lazy like an engineer” in that he’ll always find a solution to a problem that amounts to doing the least amount of the type of work he doesn’t like — in his case, actually going outside — to the extent that our shower curtain is now hung with a very complex series of clothespins, because he doesn’t like going into Castorama (aka the hardware store). He is not the kind of person who strives for happiness, but rather basks in it. I have found this to be a fairly Latin characteristic, as exemplified by long and lazy apéros, siestas, and vacations from France to Spain to Italy.

But I digress. For me, at least, happiness has always seemed unattainable, and the point of every day was to move closer to it, like an asymptote approaching, but never reaching, zero — or so I thought.

Many people — me included — busy themselves with little things: deadlines (guilty), vapid socializing (occasionally guilty), projects (very guilty), cleaning (less so), to avoid getting to the real root of what makes them happy. I have spent so many years making myself busy to give the illusion of being productive and happy, when in reality, I spend most of my time planning for the future, concentrating on what can go better, be better, make me happier… and very little of it enjoying what I actually have.

I recently sat down with a few members of my writer’s group here in Paris — one of the best groups of women I’ve ever had the pleasure to know — to discuss, amongst other things, this speech recently made by Lionel Shriver. While our conclusions were eclipsed by a (third? fourth?) bottle of wine, we did end up bemoaning the unfortunate policing — of tone, of content, of opinion, of word choice — that tends to happen these days, especially with my generation, and especially in the US.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: America today is plagued by special snowflake syndrome. While there definitely are serious issues being addressed by millennials and their grassroots activism, much what is being said sounds like sniveling and whining, and playground finger-pointing, clamoring, “He called me a doodyhead.”

This, I suppose, is my roundabout way of saying: I’m sick of pointing fingers, of being, perhaps, a bit too much a part of my own generation. I’m sick of looking for anyone, anything, to indicate and say, “But that’s the reason I’m not happy.”

If I’m not happy, then I am the reason I’m not happy. And so, in true American, first-born in the birth order, perfectionist, former Andover student style, I’m going to change that.

Instead of waiting for external circumstances to dictate my own happiness, I have opted to bring happiness to me. I’ve made a list of things that make me happy (making lists is one of them). They include reading books in the bathtub, drinking an entire pot of herbal tea in the morning while I write in my journal, cooking seasonally, having deep conversations with intelligent people, finishing the dishes before I go to bed, listening to country music, smiling even when I’m in a funk, going hiking, pitching big new publications, walking in cities at nighttime, and taking pictures of dinner on my balcony before the sun sets.

And I’ve also made a list of things that make me unhappy — this, perhaps, is the more surprising list. It includes drinking caffeinated beverages, watching television, smoking cigarettes, staying in my pajamas all day, getting drunk, staying indoors for too long, giving myself permission to procrastinate, and eating too much cheese (something that happens on a quasi-regular basis).

All of the things in my unhappy list are things that I think will make me happy, in the moment, and end up making me “just content” (and later, discontented, because I feel like I missed out on my happiness high). The things in my happy list are things that require a bit more work, things that draw me out of that basic human reflex towards laziness, but that end up filling me with far more joy.

Well, today, I choose happiness.

Wild Rice, Sweet Potato, and Lentil Salad (serves 4)

1 cup wild rice
1 cup brown lentils
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
1 shallot, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
salt and pepper

Cook the wild rice and lentils separately, in boiling water. Season the wild rice with salt, but not the lentils. Cook for about 40 minutes, or according to package instructions.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400 degrees, and toss the sweet potato dice with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and a bit of salt. Place on a baking sheet, and roast about 20-25 minutes, until cooked through and slightly caramelized on the outside.

When the lentils and rice are cooked, drain separately, season the lentils with salt, then combine. Add the shallot, balsamic vinegar, and 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine.

Add the sweet potato and mix thoroughly. Serve with balsamic reduction, if that makes you happy.