Beef Lentil Soup — The Kitchen Is Still Here, and So Am I

The week after. The first week of the rest of things without Danny. I want to write about this week without making it larger or smaller than it is. It is large. It is the largest week I have experienced since I was twelve years old and Danny was hospitalized with the chemical exposure and I became the man of the house overnight. That was the first large week. This is the second.

I cooked every day. This is how I know I am still here, in the kitchen, making things. Monday: bean bread. Tuesday: venison and wild corn soup. Wednesday: nothing, I was at Terry's and she fed me caldo de res, the soup she makes when she is processing something. Thursday: kanuchi, because I needed the hour of pounding, the labor of it, the way the work takes all of you and there is nothing left over for anything else. Friday: fry bread, because Danny asked for it every birthday and every birthday is now a different kind of thing and I made fry bread and ate it at the kitchen table and said his name out loud in my kitchen, which is the closest I know how to get to prayer.

Hannah has been present and steady in the way that Hannah is present and steady, which is to say she shows up in exactly the right way without making a show of showing up. She has handled everything practical — the calls, the paperwork, the schedule — while I have been in the kitchen. She has kept the kids in their routines. She has slept next to me every night and not required me to be more okay than I am. That is the whole of what you need from a person in the worst week of your life: for them to not require you to be more okay than you are. She has given me that.

Danny died in the kitchen because everything is there. I am going to keep making things in the kitchen because everything is there. I am going to keep making what he taught me. That is the answer. That is the only answer I have.

The venison and wild corn soup I made on Tuesday is the one I keep coming back to — the one that felt most like Danny, most like the way he ate and the way he taught me to cook. I don’t expect anyone reading this to have wild corn on hand, and I’m not ready yet to write that recipe out in full, to give it away like that. But this beef lentil soup lives in the same territory: long-cooked, honest, the kind of thing that asks you to stay in the kitchen with it, which is exactly what I needed. Make it slowly. That’s the whole point.

Beef Lentil Soup

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 lb beef stew meat, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced
• 3 stalks celery, sliced
• 1 1/2 cups green or brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
• 6 cups beef broth
• 2 cups water
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (for serving)

Instructions

1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the beef cubes in a single layer, seasoning with a pinch of salt and pepper. Sear without stirring for 3–4 minutes until browned on one side, then turn and brown the other sides. Remove beef to a plate and set aside.
2. Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion and celery to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
3. Add the vegetables and lentils. Stir in carrots, lentils, diced tomatoes (with their liquid), cumin, smoked paprika, and thyme. Return the browned beef to the pot.
4. Add liquid and simmer. Pour in beef broth and water. Add the bay leaf. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 45–55 minutes, until lentils are fully tender and beef is fork-tender.
5. Adjust and finish. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. If the soup has thickened more than you like, stir in an additional 1/2 cup of water or broth.
6. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley. Good with fry bread, cornbread, or nothing at all.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 620mg