Some things never change.
But some things do. The older I get, the more confident I become, the more risks I’m willing to take. Things I’m more comfortable exploring. So it’s not entirely unexpected that I find myself down a certain dark road. A toe dipped in an unfamiliar pond. Suddenly and without warning, I’m cooking vegetarian food.
I know. It’s a shock. I’m sure it’s almost as hard for you to read as it is for me to admit. I’ve been alternately mocking and pitying vegetarians for years. I have a subscription to Meatpaper magazine. But driven by economy and curiosity, I wanted to see if I could satisfyingly subsist on veggies and legumes alone. If I could stave off the need to have meat at every meal.
And it’s going ok. I’ve been working on a lentil curry recipe that’s taking off. French techniques and Indian flavors. I start by softening onions, fennel and carrots in a little oil. Then add some simple yellow curry and cayenne. In goes some rainbow chard or kale, a fair amount of vegetable broth, then the lentils and chickpeas to simmer for about 10 minutes.
It’s good. Really good. It’s got a surprising depth of flavor considering the relatively flavorless individual parts. Then topped with a tangy dollop of yogurt (also new to me, it’s been on my “creepy foods” list for awhile), and it becomes a very satisfying and tasty bowl of food.
But don’t worry, I’m not converting. I don’t think I could make it through life without the crisp skin of a perfectly roasted chicken or fathom a perfect brunch complete without a strip or two of bacon or endure a long, cold winter with at least one day devoted to a long-simmering pot roast on the stove. But it’s nice to know there’s damn good food to be had that doesn’t require a trip to the butcher’s counter.
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