The Salad for Seduction

In the early days of our courtship, my boyfriend, David, liked to propose picnic dinners. I’m sure he would’ve been happy with burgers from Tommy’s for our trips up to the hillsides of Elysian Park, but for me, those first meals had to be more poetic. How do you encode a picnic with the mystery of romance, that is, clues to how interesting you are, how full of surprises, how free-spirited yet complex you’ll prove to be? I puzzled over this, maybe not so overtly, but with that basic question in mind as I considered all the tried-and-true recipes from my cookbooks. I was determined to make an impression.

For our first outing (“Oh, sure, I’ll bring the food,” I’d said in what I hoped was a casual tone), I composed at least a half-dozen menus. Fried chicken was classic, but it was messy, and did he like it thickly battered or crispy? Who knew? Potato salad? Too ordinary. Panini, Thai curry, Chinese noodles, salmon burritos? Trying too hard. Finally, I remembered making my favorite lentil salad in the tiny kitchen of my friend Karen. “You’ll love this,” she’d said. “Every bite is a little surprise.”

Karen was naturally exuberant, so I’d thought she was exaggerating, but after we’d painstakingly diced and chopped the ingredients, stirred the salad together and tasted it, I’d realized she was absolutely right. Lemon zest and mint, roasted peppers, hints of carrots and feta cheese: Every bite was a little surprise.

That lentil salad popped to mind as the embodiment of what I wanted for the first picnic. After all, lentil salad doesn’t exactly draw attention to itself, so it would provide an unassuming vehicle for the planned seduction. Sure, it would look a bit earthy, but that was good. I wasn’t trying for glamour. All I really wanted was something this new man would remember happily as being more intriguing than he’d expected.

It seemed to work. He raved. We feasted. As far as I know, lentil salad has yet to be cited in the annals of love poetry, but I can attest that, when eaten on a picnic blanket in the slanting light of afternoon, it did indeed become the food of romance.

For a long time after its debut in our relationship, I pretended that this salad was something I just kept around the house, and soon enough it was. It improves as it sits, and it travels well, which was a good thing. We ate it all summer, first alfresco with crusty bread and wine, then carrying it from my place to his until that was pointless because my place was his. Of course, I’m not saying that things would have turned out differently for us if not for the salad, but when we celebrate our 11th year together in August, I know what I’ll be serving.*

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Lentil Salad

Adapted from the “Greens Cookbook” by Edward E. Brown and Deborah Madison (Bantam Books, 1987)

Makes 6 servings

1 1/2 cups rinsed lentils

1 medium carrot, peeled and finely diced

1/2 small onion, finely diced

1 bay leaf

1 clove garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 medium red bell peppers

Lemon vinaigrette (see below)

2 teaspoons chopped fresh mint leaves

1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro leaves

1 1/2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves

Salt and pepper

Red wine vinegar

8 ounces feta cheese, crumbled

Olive oil

Place lentils in large pot with carrot, onion, bay leaf, garlic and salt, then cover with water and bring to boil. Simmer until tender, 20 to 25 minutes. Drain.

Broil peppers until charred. Place in covered bowl 10 minutes, then peel. Devein and seed, then dice.

Prepare vinaigrette and fold into warm lentils. Add mint, cilantro, thyme, most of peppers, salt and pepper. Before serving, add red wine vinegar to brighten flavors. Gently stir in cheese. Garnish with remaining peppers and drizzle with oil.

*

Lemon vinaigrette:

Zest and juice of 1 lemon

1/4 teaspoon paprika

Cayenne pepper

1 clove garlic, minced

1/4 teaspoon salt

6 teaspoons olive oil

Place lemon zest in bowl with 3 tablespoons juice, paprika, a pinch of pepper, garlic and salt. Whisk in oil.

*

Food stylist: Christine Anthony-Masterson