Paisano: Lentil Soup

Paisano sighed and said, "I still wonder about that boy."

My friend and I had just finished a bowl of lentil soup — a really great bowl of lentil soup that Paisano had made. He'd shown up on my doorstep the day before, well, not quite on my doorstep. He'd called me from the end of the rail line about 20 miles south of Nashua, New Hampshire and said he was coming for a visit. At 4:00 in the afternoon. I've told him more than once that I hate being dropped in on, but his response was, "Hey! I called."

Damned old coot.

As he made the soup using a smoked turkey carcass he'd found in my freezer, he told me about learning to make it from a French-trained Egyptian chef. Apparently he and some students (fellow students? he never answers questions directly) at the American University in Cairo were renting a house in a town just outside of Cairo and had not only a housekeeper but also a French-trained chef as a private cook. A great lifestyle if you can get it. And that led to other stories about living in Egypt, which in turn led to his sigh.

He and some friends were in Cairo in a VW van caught in traffic. To the right was a bus — overloaded as they can only be overloaded in a third world country — and another bus occupied the left. Then the bus on the right started forward and a poor young man, hanging on the side, was dragged past their van's rear view mirror. As soon as there was space he fell to the street and then dragged himself off the road. Paisano managed to scramble out of the van and gave the boy all the money he had but, "We were not in favor with Nasser. If the authorities had gotten involved I might be rotting in an Egyptian prison today — just for being stuck in traffic! But I still wonder about that boy."

Then he shrugged and grinned that somehow-delightful self-satisfied grin. "Ah, but Kevin. A private chef! A housekeeper! I think the chef hated me because I was always asking questions about Egyptian food. But, you know, a private chef. Pretty good, eh?" And then I told him about living in Cairo when Nasser died. He didn’t know I'd also lived there. I do love surprising the old reprobate; it's not easy to do.

It's the lemon that makes this soup. A few years back I started adding ground lemon grass to the stock in addition to the freshly squeezed lemon added to each bowl. The tart lemon compliments the sweetness of the shredded carrots perfectly.

Lentil Soup

 

1 roasted turkey carcass (smoked turkey is better, and a smoked ham hock works)

1 lb green lentils -- washed and picked over

1 md yellow onion -- peeled and cut into large chunks

1 md yellow onion -- peeled and diced

1 lg carrot -- cut into 1” lengths

1 lg carrot -- grated

1 stalk celery with greens attached -- cut into 1” lengths

1 tbsp lemon grass -- ground

Bay leaf

2 tbsp olive oil

20 whole pepper corns

Salt and ground black pepper to taste

Fresh lemons -- cut into quarters

 

Stock: Place the turkey carcass in a stock pot (you may need to break it up). Add the chunks of onion and lengths of carrot and celery, lemon grass, bay leaf, and pepper corns to pot.

 

Add enough water to cover completely, place over high heat, and bring just to a boil. Immediately reduce heat and simmer for an hour and a half, adding additional water as needed to keep covered.

 

Remove carcass from pot. Pick off any meat, and chop finely. Strain broth into another pot or container and discard solids (except for any meat that may have fallen off, which should be chopped).

 

Soup: Add lentils and grated carrots to the now-empty stock pot. Saute diced onion in olive oil in a skillet over medium heat until it begins to brown. Add to lentils and carrots along with salt and pepper to taste. Add enough broth to cover lentils to a depth of 1 1/2 inches.

 

Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium low, cover, and cook for two hours, stirring occasionally and adding, as necessary, enough additional stock or water to keep the lentils under 1/4 inch of liquid.

 

Serve with salt, pepper, and lemon wedges.