On Starting Anew over a Bowl of Soup
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“And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust in the magic of new beginnings.”
This year began differently for me. Not by choice, but it did.
Normally I enjoy having New Years Day off of work to contemplate the
year just past and the one ahead. In all the years working as a cook
I cannot remember working this day...the private club of which I've
been employed for more than a decade is closed on this day, and all
the restaurants I'd worked prior were closed on this day. And even
when I did a short stint at a whole foods co-op as kitchen manager I
arranged the schedule so I had off. But this year—on New Years
Day—I worked, not at any of the jobs aforementioned; I worked my
part-time job which I started just a few weeks ago. Initially I
didn't want to do this but my supervisor asked if I would and I said
yes. I'm trying to say yes to more things in my life these days, but
I'm jumping ahead as I often do.
The night prior I had a date with my two pugs, Netflix, and a bottle
of red wine and hoping to make it until midnight (I did). I made
lentil soup for dinner, and in trying to live more in the moment
(something else I'm attempting to do lately), I really focused on
what I was doing. At my full-time job, where I am in charge of a full
kitchen, this is often difficult for me because of multi-tasking
(which is actually an illusion). But at home I can really focus on
just one thing and really appreciate the moment. So as I slowly
sauteed the vegetables and garlic in olive oil I was fully aware of
all of my senses. And when I added the fragrant spices they filled
the air with an aroma that I remember from my youth.
I've mentioned a few times in this blog prior that I am partially of
Lebanese decent; my dad's family was from the “old country.” I
have very fond memories of my youth and on this evening as the spices
tickled my nostrils I was transported back to the smell of my sitto's
(grandmother's) house. It was the same aroma I would smell when we
would enter her house on a winter's day and the windows would be
steamed up and sitti and my aunts—who were busy in the
kitchen—would stop long enough to hug and kiss me and my sisters
and pinch our cheeks. And on this evening—the last night of 2014—as
I stood in my tiny home kitchen with my pugs at my feet while I made
lentil soup—I was not alone, at least not entirely...I could feel
the presence of my ancestors as if they were standing before me in
the flesh. I felt comforted, and I thanked them aloud. I thanked them
for all the hard work they did and all the love that they gave, and
for making me the person that I am.
The next morning, on New Years Day, I awoke pre-dawn to the sound
wind. My old Allentown house shook and creaked as the wind and snow
howled outside. Ugh, I thought...I really wished I could just climb
back under the covers. But I bundled up and rode the smaller of my
two cargo bikes to work, the one fitted with studded snow tires. And
it was to my fortune that the wind was to my back...I was quite
literally pushed to work. What a gift. And in an attempt at being
present I welcomed the wind rather than dread it (this no doubt would
have been more difficult if the wind were at my face rather than my
back). And as I blew past the new and half-built medical campus on
Main Street the tarps billowed and howled and the outstretched arm of
the crane swayed as if waving to the clouds. There was not a car or
person in sight and it was beautiful, it really was.
My part-time job is working in a home where people have nowhere else
to go. The juxtaposition to my daily full-time job is easily
apparent. And it is humbling on so many levels. It's just a few hours
a week and I work alone in the kitchen, so rather than having a full
staff to do things for me I do it myself (which I enjoy). But the
best part is being able to serve people a good meal who may need it
the most. Food can nourish far more than the physical body.
So what does any of this have to do with soup and a new year? Nothing
and everything, I suppose. I, like a lot of people, had a whole list
of resolutions—things to give up and things to take up—most of
which will be forgotten by the end of the month. And as I rode to
work just after dawn on the first day of the new year it came to me
that changing my thoughts changes my reality, and that my
resolution(s) can be distilled into that one thing. The wind howled
and at points almost pushed me off my bike, but by welcoming it—being
in awe of it—I enjoyed the ride rather dreaded it.
It is a proven fact that when one changes their thoughts they change
their outlook, and that happiness truly can be a choice, even in the
most difficult situations. I personally know this, but that alone
does not always make it easy. When I remain positive I have positive
things happen in my life; and living positively also means (for me)
living compassionately. And when I live with a compassionate and thankful heart
the world blossoms before me. Inversely, when I live in fear (or with
negative thoughts) it's as if I have blinders on and can only see my
own problems (which seem paramount but in reality are not problems at
all when it comes right down to it).
So after serving lunch I sat down to my own lunch of another bowl of
soup, flat-bread, and an orange which I carried with me to work that
morning. Again I thought of my ancestors and how they likely came to
this country with nothing but the clothes on their backs
and a few things that they could carry. And as I sat and ate to the
hum of the refrigerator, I thought to myself that while I may not
have everything I want I most definitely have everything I need...way
more than I need, actually. And as I sat there I banished the list of
resolutions that I had planned and just stuck to one...to change my
thinking. Because if I do this I know that everything will work out.
Will it be easy? Nope. Not likely. But is it possible? Yes, without
doubt...I can start over everyday if that's what it will take, not
just New Year's Day. And if I do this I know that I can be of more
service to others—even if it is just little interactions throughout
the day—because isn't that what we are really here for, to help one
another along this journey we call life.
And I don't know if I was imagining it or not, but as I ate the soup
it tasted good...really good. Better than the night before, in fact. And
this is what I thought about while eating lentil soup in a large
kitchen lined with stainless-steel while the wind whistled and howled
outside on the first day of the new year.
“Do
not conform to the pattern of this world be be transformed by the
renewing of your mind.”
Red Lentil Lentil Soup with Spinach
Makes
about 2 quarts
4
tablespoon olive oil
1
small onion, diced
1
medium carrot, peeled and diced
3
cloves garlic, minced
4
tablespoons tomato paste
2
teaspoons ground cumin
2
teaspoon turmeric
1
teaspoon ground coriander
1
teaspoon crushed hot pepper
2
teaspoons kosher salt
2
cups red lentils
8
cups chicken broth
2
medium potatoes, peeled and diced
4
cups (4-6 ounces) fresh spinach, chopped
¼
cup lemon juice
Heat
the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add the
onion and carrot; saute for a few minutes, then add the garlic and
saute another minute or two. Add the tomato paste, cumin, turmeric,
coriander, hot pepper, and salt, then cook and stir the tomato and
spices for a minute or so. Add the lentils broth, bring to a boil
then lower it to a simmer. Allow the soup to cook for about an 30
minutes, then add the potatoes and simmer another 30 minutes or until
the soup thickens and the lentils become very soft. If it becomes too
thick, add additional broth or a little water. Stir in the spinach
and simmer for just a couple minutes. Stir in the lemon juice and
remove from the soup from the heat.
For additional Lebanese-inspired recipes, click here.
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