Lentils have been a staple in my life and a reliable source of nourishment these past few years as a nomad. With life in constant motion, there’s nothing like a comforting bowl of lentil soup to ground me, to take me to the kitchen where I learned how to cook dal, or to transport me to an Italian kitchen should I have pork or Parmesan on hand.
I’ve made lentils many different ways, but I tend to lean toward the Ayurvedic kitchari recipe I’m familiar with. So, it always feels like a special treat to have Italian lentil soup, which is why I seized the opportunity to interject when I met a young mother who didn’t know what to do with the bag of lentils she received at a food bank. “I’ll make them for you,” I blurted out.
We had met in the kitchen of a shared AirBnB in Tampa, Florida. Staying in a communal space after months of hiatus has been a great way to explore the area before permanently deciding on a mailbox. That night, in the temporary home, with both our lives in transition, there was a kitchen, a pot, a mother, a child, and dinner. We were strangers in motion, looking to land somewhere, somewhere with a clover covered lawn or a window big enough for the view of the oak, from a kitchen we’ll build one spoon at a time (or: a spoon or two at a time).
Earlier that day, a struggling mother and son received a bag of lentils that they had no idea what to do with. I’ve been thinking about that experience and about nourishment: what we give people; what they know how to receive, and what they might need from us beyond the thing itself. It reminded me of Harlem Refettorio where I volunteered for a few months last year. The line was filled with people who had nine to five jobs. There were school teachers and construction workers and people who slept in their cars. They were tired but smiled and remembered me every week when I handed them potatoes, carrots and packaged baked goods.
I thought I understood something about food banks then, but now I am rethinking what it means to give someone food. Sometimes we get ingredients that we have no idea what to do with; sometimes we’re given things that could sustain us, but it may come in a box with no directions, no recipe and no inspiration. And sometimes those ingredients that are given can be an invitation into a stranger’s life, where a heartwarming meal of lentils is shared.
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