Seriously? You guys know me: This is kind of not my style.

Where’s the butter? Where’s the bacon? Why is there no wine? Why does this seem…healthy? Who are you and what have you done with The Mouse?

I know.

To me, edamame (a.k.a. soybeans) are those little salty pods that you nibble on when you’re out for Japanese and you’re waiting for your sushi to show up.

So, when I saw this recipe recently in Better Homes & Gardens, I was kind of surprised that I couldn’t couldn’t stop staring at the picture. It was a bowl of mashed peas and soybeans, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Visual critter that I am, I knew I had to make it. The stuff was just so vibrantly GREEN. If I couldn’t bring myself to eat it, I reasoned, I could admire it, photograph it, then pawn it off on one of my veggie-loving friends.

But. (You know where this is going.)

I liked this stuff so much that I didn’t want to share.

I liked this stuff so much that I ate an embarrassing amount of it. With a spoon. Standing barefoot at my kitchen counter.

The whole time, I was thinking, this is like mashed potatoes, but it’s all green and good for you.

I swear, this stuff fulfills your craving for some kind of mashed-potato-like substance—but it’s better for you, and actually packs a lot of protein because you use a combination of sweet peas and edamame.

So how does it taste?

These smashed peas are smooth and earthy. Fresh lemon juice and mint add a little brightness and freshly cracked black pepper gives it a subtle heat. A handful of chopped green onion provides just a little onion-y bite. It gets a generous drizzle of fruity olive oil right before serving.

To my vegetarians friends: I think I get the soybean thing now. At least a little better. (Sigh. I know, it takes me forever to figure this stuff out.)

The original recipe from Better Homes serves this with ricotta toasts, which looked really good. I just didn’t get that far.

What kind of peas and soybeans should I buy?

Frozen ones. No joke. I picked up a package of Cascadian Farm Sweet Peas…

…and some Seapoint Farms edamame for the soybeans. I found both in the natural food section of my local Stop & Shop. Whichever brand of soybeans you buy, be sure to get the shelled kind. This is an easy recipe, in part, because there’s very little prep.

What’s the difference between edamame and soybeans?

Good question. And the answer is: Not much.

Edamame are basically baby soybeans. (Edamame is the Japanese word for soybean.) They’re picked when they’re immature and fill about 80 percent of their pod, which means that they’re still plump and green and relatively sweet.

Regular soybeans are dry and hard because they’re allowed to mature fully in their pods. You need to soak them just like dried beans before you can deal with them in the kitchen.

I won’t go on about the health benefits of soybeans, but they’re packed with protein, low in carbs, and are generally thought to be a heart-healthy food.

Smashed Peas with Mint

Adapted from Better Homes & Gardens

20 oz. frozen sweet peas
16 oz. frozen shelled edamame
water
kosher salt
freshly cracked black pepper
juice from 1 large lemon
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1 scallion, sliced into rings
5-6 fresh mint leaves, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil

Serves 6-8 as a side

Simmer the peas and edamame

Bring a large pan with about a half-inch of water in it to a simmer on the stove. When the water is simmering, toss in the frozen sweet peas and edamame. No need to thaw them first. (If they’re frozen together in clumps in the bag, knock it against your counter a few times to loosen them up.)

Simmer them for about 5 minutes, until tender. (Yank one out of the pot and give it a nibble. You’ll know when you bite into it if it’s still kind of hard and raw.)

When they’re done, drain them well in a colander.

Puree the peas and edamame

When they’re well drained, toss the little green guys into your food processor. (If you don’t have a food processor, I’m reasonably sure you could do this with a potato masher and a little elbow grease.)

Process them on high until they’re smashed to bits. You may need to stop once or twice and scrape down the sides of your bowl. When they’re fairly mashed up, squeeze in the lemon.

Puree again on high to incorporate the lemon juice. In terms of consistency, you’re aiming for a chunky paste. Some leftover bits of peas are fine, but you should be able to spread it on a piece of toast with a knife.

Season the smashed peas

Toss in the garlic powder and some kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper. (Start with a little, add more after you taste.)

Add the mint and most of the sliced scallion (save a little to garnish the dish).

Mix together until uniform. Transfer to a serving bowl.

Drizzle with good, fruity olive. Serve warm or at room temp.

Enjoy!

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It’s been freezing here in Boston for the last week or so, which has put me in serious comfort-food mode.

I’ve had a few days off, and have been able to flit in and out of the kitchen, tending to hearty, slow-cooking dishes. (Hehe…Hooray for vacation! I’m just sad it has to end.)

This is a fantastically warming soup that’s perfect for winter nights. I used dried beans because I prefer their texture to canned. That means I started the night before by soaking the little guys.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Rich flavor (no stock!)

I built layers of flavor by sauteing diced bacon ’til it was crispy�then cooking sweet onion and carrots in the bacon fat until lusciously caramelized and brown.

A quick deglaze with orange juice adds a hint of sweetness that nicely balances the salty, smokey bacon. A good amount of ground chipotle and garlic give the soup some serious kick. (Not a heat lover? Just add less chili.)

I did all of this specifically to develop a deep fIavor base for the soup, because this recipe calls for water�not stock.

A fresh batch of diced carrots, some fresh orange zest and juice, and a handful of minced cilantro added at the end brighten up the soup.

The end result is spicy, smokey, a little bit sweet, and subtly fragrant with orange. If you prefer the classic chili/lime combination, you can totally substitute in lime juice and zest for the orange here.

The finished soup also thickens in the fridge. Reheat it in a bowl with a side of fluffy white rice and some freshly chopped mangoes�or add a little water or orange juice to thin it out a bit.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: A note on salt

Don’t add any until the end.

You’re using a fair amount of bacon, so your soup will already have plenty of salt built in. Better to wait ’til the end to see if you think it needs an extra sprinkle. (After all, once you put it in, you can’t get it out.)

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Ridiculous praise for my big red pot

Use your largest, heaviest bottomed pot to make this. I started out in a smaller pot, but then wound up transferring my soup to my 7-quart Le Creuset Enameled Cast Iron Round French Oven.

I absolutely love this thing.

I got a great deal on it maybe 10 years ago. It still wasn’t cheap, but it’s held up better than almost any piece of kitchen equipment I own, so it was definitely an investment that paid off. (Amazon has it on sale for $259 right now, which is 36% off the $405 list.*) I make almost all my soups and large casseroles in it, and also use it to roast chickens, etc.

OK, enough about the pot

Get to the recipe, Mouse! Yep, yep. Here you go.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro

1 lb. dried black beans
6 rashers (strips) of bacon, diced
1 large sweet onion, diced
15 baby carrots, diced
3/4 cup of freshly squeezed orange juice
1 1/2 tsp. – 1 Tbls. ground chipotle chili (depending on how hot you want it)
1 Tbls. garlic powder
8 cups water
1 fresh bay leaf
3 Tbls. minced cilantro + a little more for garnish
1 navel orange, juice + zest
kosher salt

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro, part 1: Soak the beans the night before

The night before you want to make this soup, you’ll need to soak the beans to rehydrate them.

I like dried beans over canned. They’re a little more work in that you need to soak ‘em, but when I have the time, I definitely prefer the slight toothiness they have to canned beans, which can be mushy before you cook them.�

So, grab your beans! Any old 89-cent bag of dried black beans from the grocery store will do.

Dump them out into a large bowl.

Now, bags of dried beans usually come with some unwanted, extra treats. Pick through the beans well, and pull out any twigs or little stones. You won’t find a ton, but there will likely be a half-a-dozen or so.

I’m talking about this stuff (the stuff that’s about the size of a bean, so it gets missed in the packaging process):

When you’re done, rinse the beans.

Fill your bowl with water a few times and pour it out, holding your hand at the edge of the bowl to keep the beans from escaping.

Then fill the bowl up with water, so that the beans are covered in about 4 inches of water.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Leave it in a cool place on your counter overnight.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro, part 2: Make the black bean soup

After your beans have soaked overnight, they will have about doubled in volume. The water will also be kind of muddy looking because it’s leached some of the color out of the beans. That’s just fine.

Drain your beans. They should be more of a deep purple, not black.

Set the beans aside while you make the flavor base for the soup.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Make the soup base

Set your largest, heaviest bottomed soup pot on the stove. Put your diced bacon in the pot.

Set the pot over medium-high heat.

Fry the bacon, stirring occasionally until the bacon is crisp and brown.

You want the bacon to look about like this:

Scoop out a spoonful or two of the bacon and set it aside to drain and use as a garnish for your finished soup.

At this point, pour off (and save for other uses!) some of the bacon fat, if you like.

Add the diced onion and about a third of the diced carrots to the pot.

Stir to combine and coat the veggies in the remaining fat.

Saute over medium-high heat until the onions are transluscent and browning.

The bottom of your pot should be coated with yummy brown bits.

Turn the heat down to medium.

Pour in the orange juice. (Watch your face and hands. There will be a poof of steam.)

Scrape at the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to loosen all those brown bits.

Toss in the garlic powder and ground chipotle. Now, I used a full tablespoon, because I love hot food. If you don’t, definitely add less.

Stir to combine. The mixture will be really thick, as a lot of the orange juice will have evaporated�leaving you with concentrated, orange-y goodness.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Put the soup together

Toss in the beans.

Stir to combine well. It’s not the prettiest looking stuff right now, but just you wait.

It was at this point that I realized that I should have used my trusty�and much bigger�french oven. No big deal…I quickly transferred the mixture to my larger pot.

Pour in the water.

Toss in the bay leaf and give the pot a stir. It should look about like this:

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Simmer and bubble away

Raise the heat to high to bring the soup to a boil.

When it’s boiling, turn the heat down to low and cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid. Your goal is to keep the soup simmering, but not boiling.

Simmer covered for 2 hours, stirring occasionally.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Finish the soup

After 2 hours, uncover the pot. Keep the heat on low. Your soup should look about like this:

The broth will be thicker, but still on the thin side. The beans should be cooked through without being mushy (i.e. they’ll still have a little bite to them). Taste one to be sure.

With a wooden spoon, smoosh a bunch of the beans against the inside of the pot to break them up, like this:

This will help to thicken the soup as it finishes cooking. Toss in the rest of the carrots (I chopped mine into a slightly smaller dice) and the minced cilantro.

Stir to combine.

Zest your orange with a microplane or the smallest holes on a regular old box grater. Be careful to get only the orange rind, not the bitter white pith beneath it.

Toss the zest into the soup pot.

Once you’ve zested it, cut the orange in half and squeeze the juice right into the soup.

(If your orange isn’t very juicy, just add a splash of regular orange juice to the pot here. The goal is to brighten up the soup a little with fresh orange flavor.)

Give the soup a stir to mix the juice and zest in.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Simmer the soup one last time

Cover the pot again and simmer it for maybe another 20-30 minutes, until the carrots are cooked through. Stir occasionally, and lower your heat if you find that the soup is sticking to the bottom of the pot.

Smokey Black Bean Soup with Orange & Cilantro: Serve & enjoy!

After about a half an hour, your soup should be done. Everything should be cooked through, and it should be wonderfully thick. Taste your soup and correct the seasoning with a little salt or cilantro as you see fit.

Serve garnished with crispy bacon and minced cilantro.

*Amazon pricing for the big red pot is accurate as of the posting date/time of this article, but is subject to change. Please double-check all info before ordering.

***
Copyright 2008-2009 The Hungry Mouse�/Jessica B. Konopa. All rights reserved.

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This soup was a happy accident.

Normally, I make split pea soup the way a lot of folks do: I simmer split peas in water with garlic, a handful of diced carrots and onions, and, of course, a ham hock. The ham hock gives the soup its signature smokey saltiness and deep flavor.

Now, when we got to the butcher, there wasn’t a ham hock to be found. They did, however, have a few lovely packages of fresh pork bones.

OK, I thought, these will do. I’ll brown the bones, then simmer them into a flavorful stock, and use that as the base for my soup.

The result? A wonderfully complex soup that gets a triple dose of piggy goodness from velvety pork stock, crisp fried bacon, and a handful of diced ham. It’s rich and meaty—with a subtle smokiness.

It was more work, but it was definitely worth it.

Split Pea Soup with Homemade Pork Stock: A note on salt

There are a few points in this recipe that call for a sprinkle or two of salt, to taste. If you’re unsure of how much to add, go light, keeping in mind that you’re going to add ham and bacon later on. You can always reseason the soup at the end if it needs more salt.

Split Pea Soup with Homemade Pork Stock

For the pork stock
1 Tbls. olive oil
2 lbs pork bones
kosher salt
10 cups water
3 fresh bay leaves
3 celery stalks, halved
1 onion, halved
1 head garlic, halved
1 bunch parsley stems
kosher salt

For the split pea soup
2 rashers bacon, diced
10 baby carrots, diced
1 shallot, minced
5 cups pork stock
1/2 lb. of split peas
1 tsp. garlic powder
kosher salt
black pepper to taste
1 cup diced ham

Split Pea Soup with Homemade Pork Stock: Make the pork stock

Start with fresh (i.e. not smoked), meaty pork bones. Depending on your butcher, these might be labeled “Pork Neck Bones.”

Add the olive oil to a large, heavy-bottomed stock pot. Turn the heat on medium-high. Sprinkle the pork bones with salt and add them to the pot. Your goal here is to brown the bones all over.

Cook them until they’re brown and crisp on the bottom. Flip them over when they look about like this:

Continue turning the bones until they’re developed a handsome brown crust on all sides.

When the bones are brown all over, turn your heat down to low. After a minute or two, add the water. (Be careful of the steam.)

When you’ve added all the water, scrape at the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to loosen any brown bits. The water should start to take on a rich brown color, like this:

Raise the heat to high and bring the water to a boil. As the bones boil, they’ll release impurities and a foamy, opaque scum will rise to the surface of the water. It should look about like this:

Skim that off with a spoon and discard it.

Keep boiling and skimming for maybe 10 minutes or so, until no (or almost no) scum remains.

Toss in the bay leaves, onion, celery, garlic, and parsley stems. Give a stir to combine.

Cover the pot tightly. Turn the heat down low enough to maintain a good simmer without your pot boiling over. Let it bubble for 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally.

After 1 1/2 hours, it should look about like this:

With tongs, remove all the bones and large veggie pieces. Discard them. Don’t fret about tossing this stuff. You’ve most likely cooked all the flavor and goodness out of the meat, so it’s done its job.

(If you’re not sure about this, taste the meat. If you still think it’s OK, reserve the bones, pick them clean, and add that meat back to the soup at the end.)

Once you’ve pulled out all the large pieces, your stock should look about like this:

Next, strain the stock quickly to remove any smaller debris. Set a strainer over a large bowl, and pour the stock through the strainer into the bowl. Set the bowl of stock aside for a few minutes.

Wipe out your stock pot with a few paper towels (or wash it quickly if it’s really mucky). Set it back on the stove over medium-high heat.

Add the diced bacon to the pot and fry, stirring occasionally, til brown and slightly crisp.

You want the bacon to be slightly crisp (not completely dark and brittle) like this:

If you have what looks like an excessive amount of bacon fat to you, drain some of it off. Toss in the shallot and carrot. Stir to coat with bacon fat.

Add 5 cups of the stock.

Toss in the split peas and give the soup a stir to combine everything.

Raise the heat to high and bring the soup up to a boil. When it’s boiling, lower the heat so the soup is just simmering, and cover it. Simmer covered, stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour.

After about an hour, the split peas should have all but broken down. Your soup should be pea green, and fairly thick.

Add the diced ham and give it a stir to combine.

Simmer, uncovered, for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Ladle out into bowls and serve piping hot with hunks of crusty garlic bread. Enjoy!

Split Pea Soup with Homemade Pork Stock: A note on leftovers

This soup tends to thicken up considerably in the fridge. If you like, thin it out with a little leftover pork stock, water, or low-sodium chicken broth.

***
Copyright 2008 The Hungry Mouse™/Jessica B. Konopa. All rights reserved.

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I have a great—and relatively newfound—love for white beans. (See? I do eat more than meat.)

Here are two of my favorite ways to prepare them. The first recipe is for a thick dip that’s fragrant with garlic and lemon. The second is a creamy, spinach-laden soup that uses the dip as a base.

A simple, convertible recipe for white beans

It’s a dip! No wait…shazam! It’s a soup!

(Pardon the ultra-corny, culinary sleight of hand, but it really is almost that easy.)

This white bean dip is fabulous served with crackers or tortilla chips—or as the centerpiece of a fresh, crunchy crudite platter. It’s also a nice, egg-less replacement for mayo on a toasted BLT sandwich.

You can also use it as the base for a hearty soup. This soup is creamy and flecked with pieces of fresh baby spinach, crispy bacon, rosemary, and black pepper. The lemon in the dip gives it a really nice, bright tang.

Serve it for lunch or supper on a cold winter day when you’d rather spend more time snuggling on the sofa than slaving in the kitchen.

Once you make the dip, the rest of the soup comes together in a snap. And since the main ingredients are already pureed, there’s no messy and dangerous pot-to-blender transfer of scalding hot soup.

Garlicky White Beans, Two Ways: A note on beans and salt

You’ll need about 3 1/2 cups of beans for this recipe. I used two 15.5 oz. cans of Goya Small White Beans.

Keep a close eye on any salt you add to either of these recipes. Between the beans, bacon, and chicken stock, you’ll already have a fair amount.

The Goya beans I use are already pretty salty, so I didn’t add any additional salt to the recipe. If you use a different brand, or start with dried beans, you might want to toss a little in.

Lemon-Garlic White Bean Dip

3 cloves garlic, peeled
1 Tbls. fresh rosemary
3 1/2 cups small white beans, cooked and drained
1 cup good olive oil
juice from 1 medium lemon
kosher salt
freshly cracked black pepper

Creamy Spinach & White Bean Soup

1 recipe white bean dip (see above)
4 rashers of bacon
3 cups low-sodium chicken stock
2 1/2 cups baby spinach, loosely packed

Garlicky White Beans, Two Ways, Part 1: Lemon-Garlic White Bean Dip

If you’re using canned beans, rinse and drain them. Set them aside.

I rinse my beans, then leave them in the sink in the colander to drain for a few minutes.

While the beans drain, put the garlic and rosemary in the bowl of your food processor. Pulse a couple of times to mince the garlic and bruise the rosemary. (I like slightly larger pieces of rosemary. If you don’t, mince yours up a bit before you toss it in.)

Scrape the sides of the bowl down with a spatula. Add the drained white beans.

Pulse a few times to begin to mash up the beans.

They should look about like this:

Scrape the sides of the bowl down. Drizzle in the olive oil slowly, with the food processor running on low speed.

When all the oil is incorporated, squeeze in the lemon (remove any seeds). Add a little black pepper to taste. Process on low speed until well combined.

Your finished puree should look about like this:

Taste it and correct the seasoning, adding kosher salt and more black pepper to taste.

If you’re serving as a dip, turn the puree out into a bowl. Garnish with a few sprigs of fresh rosemary, serve, and enjoy!

If you’re using it as a soup base, read on!

Garlicky White Beans, Two Ways, Part 2: Creamy White Bean Soup

Dice up the bacon slices. Add the bacon to a large soup pot on the stove. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring often, until brown and crisp.

Your goal is to crisp up each piece, so you wind up with little bacon chips.

When the bacon is cooked, turn the heat completely off so the fat doesn’t burn. Fish the bacon bits out of the pot with a slotted spoon and set aside to drain on a few paper towels.

Drain off as much of the bacon fat as you like. (How much you leave in is up to you. You’ll have plenty of flavor from even a teaspoon. If you’re concerned about fat content, remember there’s a fair amount of olive oil in the dip.)

Turn the heat up to medium-high. Pour in one cup of the chicken stock. Scrape the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to deglaze all those tasty, brown bits. Bring the stock up to a simmer.

While the stock is coming to a simmer, chop up the baby spinach.

When the stock has started to bubble, add the white bean dip to the pot.

Whisk briskly to incorporate the white bean puree into the stock.

It will be really thick and look about like this:

At this point, it will coat a spoon well. (Mmm, flecks of rosemary, black pepper, and bacon-y goodness.)

Pour in the remaining 2 cups of chicken stock.

Whisk to combine. Bring it up to a simmer over medium-high heat. Toss in the spinach and stir to combine.

Let the soup simmer uncovered for another 5 or 10 minutes. Taste and add salt or pepper to taste.

Ladle out into bowls or mugs. Garnish with bits of crispy bacon. Enjoy!

***
Copyright 2008 The Hungry Mouse™/Jessica B. Konopa. All rights reserved.

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Now, let me take a step back.

Inadvertently, tonight’s dinner has a theme of sorts. Normally, this is kind of a cringe-worthy idea, as The Angry Chef and I aren’t really the kind of folks who plan meals in advance.

But tonight just kind of worked out. Bear with me, I’ll get to the lentil soup. I swear.

One of the best red wines you might ever have
For the last few days, I’ve been eyeing a bottle of wine that my folks gave me a few months ago—a Bandol from Domaine Tempier in the south of France. Without question, it’s one of my favorite red wines of all times.

This wine is dark and jammy with a little bit of spice.

It begs to be poured freely and served with plates of stinky cheese and crusty bread, platters of roasted meat with mushrooms, and hearty soups and stews. You see where I’m going with this.

(I’ve said it before: I could be part Hobbit.)

At any rate, Bandol wines are made from Mourvedre grapes, which come from some of the oldest vines in Provence. It’s generally accepted that the Romans planted the first vines 2,500 years ago.

All I can say is: The Romans knew what they were doing.

If you can get your hands on a bottle, I highly recommend trying it out. While I prefer the reds, Domaine Tempier is also known for their rosés.

A vineyard that knows its wine—and its food
Located in between Marseilles and Toulon, Domaine Tempier is owned by the Peyraud family.

The story of the vineyard—along with the enchanting and romantic story of how Lucie Tempier married Lucien Peyraud in 1936—is recounted in excellent detail in the book Lulu’s Provencal Table by Richard Olney.

The book is packed with history, lore, anecdotes, and—of course—a host of mouthwatering recipes from Lucie, herself. It makes for an excellent read, and a great reference when you actually bring it into your kitchen.

Which brings me to my lentil soup
So, like I said, tonight is a good night for soup. Given that my mouth was watering for the bottle of Bandol, I hunted through my pantry until I found my package of French Le Puy lentils.

These lentils are smaller and a deeper green in color than most ordinary lentils. I like them because they stay slightly firmer when cooked, so your soup has some texture to it.

This soup is really simple: lentils, carrots, garlic, chicken stock, a few herbs. You could add some onions, if you like, or some mushrooms or a tiny bit of bacon, but I like it as is. I venture to say that it would be at home on a vineyard table.

It’s simple and hearty and a really nice, warm thing to have for a late supper when it’s just starting to get cold.

Simple Lentil Soup

2 Tbls. pure olive oil
1 tsp. kosher salt
2 cups Le Puy lentils
5 cups chicken stock
7 cloves garlic, put through a press
1/2 tsp. fresh cracked pepper
3 fresh bay leaves
1 tsp. rosemary
10 baby carrots, cut in thirds

Put the olive oil and the kosher salt in a medium-sized pot. Add the lentils. Stir to coat completely. Saute the lentils over medium-high heat for a minute or two to warm them up.

Add the chicken stock. Stir to combine.

Toss in the garlic, black pepper, bay leaves, rosemary, and carrots. Stir to combine. Cover and simmer over medium-high heat for about a half an hour, stirring occasionally.

After about a half an hour, uncover your pot. Give your soup a stir. Taste it and add more salt or even a little garlic powder if you think it needs it. If it’s already getting really thick (you’ll know because it will start sticking to the bottom of the pot), stir in another half a cup or so of chicken stock or water.

Cover your pot back up. Simmer for another 15-20 minutes, or until the lentils are tender and the carrots are completely cooked through.

After about 15 more minutes, your soup will be really thick. If you want it even thicker, mash some of the lentils against the side of the pot with the back of your spoon. Stir to combine.

Give your soup one last taste adjust the seasoning as necessary. I tend to like my soups on the salty side, so I usually toss in a little more kosher salt. If you like it as it is, it’s ready to serve.

Dish it up and enjoy with a bottle of Bandol or other hearty red wine.

A note on reheating
In the refrigerator, the lentils will suck up all the remaining broth in the soup. That’s OK.

When you want to reheat it, put your soup in a pot on the stove over medium heat. Add water or chicken stock little by little, stirring as you go until you reach the consistency you want.

Bring it up to a simmer and hold it there for a minute or two, to reintroduce all the flavors. Serve at once.

***
Copyright 2008 The Hungry Mouse™/Jessica B. Konopa. All rights reserved.

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