Lentil Stew with Leeks and Potatoes

When I was supposed to be practicing mindfulness in my yoga class recently, I was actually thinking of how I took online yoga classes from my fourth-grade bestie, Becky, during the darkest days of the pandemic. Thinking about Becky led me to think about our fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Hey: a short, no-nonsense woman with an intense Southern drawl. Then I remembered how one of Mrs. Hey's favorite expressions, delivered with severity, was "don't be cute," meaning "behave" or "be serious" or "you're not amusing, so shut up." 

Mrs. Hey

Remembering tiny but terrifying Mrs. Hey admonishing me not to be cute, I struggled not to laugh in the silence of yoga class, and then I thought about "Smoky Lentil Stew with Leeks and Potatoes" (NYT Cooking; subscription required). So much for mindfulness. But why, you ask, did I connect Mrs. Hey and this recipe?

One of the recipe's flaws--and I take the position that there are several--is its attempt at culinary "cuteness" when it asks you to spear a bay leaf to each of two onion halves using cloves.

Why did the recipe ask me to do this?

It's a mystery, but I did it anyway, because I'm a rule follower

Precious, right? Wrong. Don't be cute, I say to recipe author David Tanis, because when you put your cute onion/leaf/clove sculptures in the pot, they will eventually come apart, and then you are stuck with two cloves hiding amongst a billion lentils, just waiting for someone to experience the unpleasantness of biting down on them. Plus, all those layers of onion will fall apart and you'll have to fish them out one by one before serving the stew, lest your allium-averse backup dancers should spot them in their bowl and recoil in horror.

But this recipe has things going for it, despite its cuteness. It is tasty and it is vegan, thereby avoiding the contribution of animal food products to the greenhouse gas emissions that are heating the Earth with disastrous consequences. So rather than bemoaning the other flaws of the recipe or tossing it aside, I present to you my superior, rewritten, anti-cute version, and I encourage you to try it:

Lentil Stew with Leeks and Potatoes, by Jaylbyrd, based on David Tanis' "Smoky Lentil Stew with Leeks and Potatoes"

Ingredients

• Small pinch of saffron (optional; about 12 strands)
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
• 2 medium leeks, white and tender green parts, chopped in ½-inch pieces
• Salt and pepper
• 1 teaspoon chopped garlic
• 1 large thyme or rosemary sprig
• 2 tablespoons smoked sweet paprika, or 1 Tbsp smoked + 1 Tbsp sweet paprika
• ⅛ teaspoon ground cayenne, or to taste
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 14oz can chopped canned tomato with juice
• 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar or other vinegar
• 1medium onion, peeled and with ends cut off, but whole 
• 2 bay leaves
• 1½ cups rinsed small lentils, such as Pardina or Puy (12 ounces), or use any size green or brown lentil
• 2 pounds potatoes, peeled and sliced ¾-inch thick
• 4-5 cups vegetable broth
• Chopped parsley (optional)

Place the saffron, if using, to soak in 1/4 cup of cold water. In a Dutch oven or large, heavy-bottomed pot, place 3 Tbsp olive oil over medium-high heat. When the oil is wavy, add leeks and stir to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Let leeks cook briskly, stirring frequently until soft but still bright green, about 5 to 8 minutes. Turn heat to medium, and stir in chopped garlic, thyme, paprika, cayenne, and ground cloves.

Add saffron and soaking water, chopped tomato, vinegar, onion, and bay leaves. Turn heat to high and let everything simmer for a few minutes. 

Add lentils, potatoes, and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil over high heat, add a large pinch of salt, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cook with lid ajar for about 40 minutes, adding water if needed to keep it all juicy, until the lentils are quite soft and the potatoes start to break. Discard onion, thyme/rosemary sprig, and bay leaves.

Finish with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and chopped parsley, if you wish.

I was, of course, compelled to Google Mrs. Hey and learned that she died in 2013, at age 95! I was disappointed in the only obituary I could find, because it does not convey what a character she was, or share anything about her background. I remember her telling us about how she accidentally signed up for a college course on some odd scientific topic--something along the lines of the genetics of prehistoric invertebrates??--and it ended up being her favorite class. That sort of fact is more interesting than how many grandchildren a person had, surely, isn't it?

Back when I was in fourth grade, Mrs. Hey and her colleagues were not teaching kids about global warming. I volunteer at my small backup dancer's school to help with education and inspiration on this topic, but it can be confusing and distressing for kids. NPR has produced a short cartoon to help explain it to kids, and it is a great primer for adults, too: https://www.npr.org/2023/01/17/1144849154/climate-change-kids-guide