Turnip the Heat with Alsatian Lentil Soup

alsatian lentil soup

I don’t know about you, but this winter’s been hitting me pretty hard. It started early, and while there haven’t been any REALLY freezing days yet, the cold (and the dryness) are pretty relentless. All I really want to do is curl up under the covers with a nice warm bowl of soup. (What, you don’t eat soup in bed? You’re missing out.)

I also had a few late-season CSA turnips languishing in my fridge, and when I found this recipe for an Alsatian lentil soup with carrots, turnips, and thyme while leafing through my beloved copy of Gil Marks’s Olive Trees and Honey: A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes from Jewish Communities around the World, it seemed like just the thing

Coincidentally, lentils are a favorite New Year food in Italy—possibly because, back in the days of the Roman Empire, they were thought to resemble the irregularly shaped brownish coins in common circulation at the time, and thus became linked to ideas of prosperity and good fortune.

Lentils also happen to be one of the oldest cultivated crops. They were grown far before the dawn of recorded history, and were a staple in the early days of agriculture in the Middle East. So it’s unsurprising that lentils have played an important role in Jewish cuisine since the very beginning—we’re talking Genesis. In probably the most famous lentil mention of all time, Esau sells his birthright to his minutes-younger twin brother, Jacob, in exchange for a bowl of red lentil pottage.

In the days of the ancient Israelites, lentils were also used to make ashisihim, pressed cakes made from ground roasted red lentils and honey and fried in oil. These pancakes may have been eaten at King Solomon’s court, and are even referred to in the Song of Songs.

There’s also a less cheery side to lentils in Jewish tradition: due to their spherical shape and lack of “mouth” (opening), they are traditionally served, along with hard-boiled eggs, at meals following burials and preceding fasts. Perhaps partly due to these unpleasant associations, for most Ashkenazim lentils were considered an undesirable poor person’s food, to be avoided except in times of desperation.

This is in stark contrast to the numerous Sephardic cuisines in which lentils remained a beloved staple—according to Gil Marks, lentil soups are a common breakfast in some parts of the Middle East. I loved reading this because among my strange eating habits is a proclivity for eating leftover soup for breakfast in the winter—take that, people who’ve made fun of me and my breakfast soups!

One exception to the Ashkenazi disdain for lentils, though, was the Alsatian Jewish community, one of Europe’s oldest (and the home of some of the original Ashkenazim). Located in what is now eastern France, on the border with Germany and Switzerland, the cuisine and culture of the region are heavily informed by both French and German traditions. So it’s only natural that the Jews of this region, lying in the epicenter of two lentil-loving peoples, would adopt these wee legumes into their diets.

Hence this lentil soup. Is it the most exciting you’ll ever taste? It is not. Will it change your life? Nope. But what it will do is provide a comforting, healthy, and relatively easy winter meal—and use up any turnips you might have languishing in your kitchen, in a way that minimizes their bitter flavor profile.

This recipe calls for brown or green lentils, both of which are unhulled and consequently stay firm during cooking—as opposed to hulled red lentils, which dissolve into a mush when cooked. Brown and green varieties are quite similar, with green being slightly firmer. Both have a nice (in my opinion, anyway) earthy flavor that blends well with various savory flavors. French, or puy, lentils are a special variety that is smaller and darker in color than your common green or browns; they’re the firmest of all the lentils and have a stronger and even more delicious earthy flavor. They’re not what’s called for in this recipe—they’re more the sort of thing you want to savor in a lentil salad or some other dish where you want the lentil flavor to really pop—but it’s always good to get to know your lentils.

Alsatian Green Lentil Soup (Soupe de Lentille)

2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil

2 onions, chopped

3 carrots, chopped

2 turnips, peeled and chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

8 cups water

2 cups green or brown lentils, picked over, rinsed, and drained

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme, or 1 teaspoon dried

2 teaspoons salt

Ground black pepper to taste

2 to 3 tablespoons cider or red wine vinegar (optional)

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté for 10 minutes. Add the carrots and turnips and continue sautéing for 5 more minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for one more minute.

Add the water, lentils, thyme, salt, pepper, and vinegar (if using). Bring to a boil, cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer until the lentils are tender, about 50 minutes. Serve warm.

Sources: “Biblical Cuisine Inspires Bible Learning in Israel,” The Marker (Megan Goldin, July 22, 2002); Encyclopedia of Jewish Food (Gil Marks, 2010)Olive Trees and Honey: A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes from Jewish Communities around the World (Gil Marks, 2004)

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2 thoughts on “Turnip the Heat with Alsatian Lentil Soup

    1. Emily

      Haha, I’m always happy to find other people who enjoy a good breakfast soup! Most people think my not-very-breakfasty breakfasts are bizarre, but I like them!

       
      Reply

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