When I was about fourteen years old, my mother got season tickets to the opera for my parents, my sister and me. We would get dressed up one Thursday a month, and we would head out to see some of the greatest operas ever written at the Met.
I loved the opera. I loved the fact that it was one of the only places left in the city where people actually got dressed up–really dressed up–to go out. I loved the man who stood at the stairs with chimes to announce that the intermission was over. And, of course, being me, I loved the fact that my mother always picked incredible places for us to eat beforehand.
Once, we went to the restaurant at the Met. I don’t remember much of it… I remember thinking that it was very sophisticated and special, although if I went back now, I don’t know what I would think.
I wanted to order lentil soup. My mother told me that lentils were an “acquired taste,” and that I should probably pick something else. That just made me want lentil soup even more. Luckily, when it arrived and I had my first taste, I fell in love with the earthiness. My mother knows by now that anything that most people regard as an “acquired taste” (truffles, coffee, red wine, mushrooms…) is probably something I will love.
I’ve been making a lot of lentils recently, mainly because they’re one of those things that is seen as a “specialty” food in America but that runs at about a euro at your average French supermarket. I’ve found a lot of my favorite new recipes, like this Lentil and Chestnut Soup over at the blog of another Parisian (this time a native): Chocolate and Zucchini.
I loved the simplicity of this salad. I changed the original recipe a bit: I avoid bouillon cubes whenever I can because the MSG gives me a headache, so I opted, instead, to flavor the water I used to cook the lentils with the flavors of the dressing: balsamic vinaigrette, cumin and garlic powder. Instead of tossing the final product in the dressing, I just added a little bit of olive oil.
If you can handle MSG, I recommend cooking the lentils in the bouillon, if only because boiling balsamic vinegar leaves an odd scent in your kitchen for several days. Tastewise, though, my changes made for a delicious lentil salad that brought out the earthy essence of the légume… the thing I fell in love with when I first tried lentils at the Metropolitan Opera House.