Memories and Masoor Dal
john barry
At the beginning of the pandemic, we lost someone very close to us. She was a parent, a close friend, and someone who taught me so much about life. She moved here from India in the seventies to marry her husband, who was studying engineering alongside my father-in-law, Paddy. She was beautiful, smart, independent and overflowed with personality. Her life was cut short by COVID-19 - there was so much she still wanted to do and see. Despite this, her impact on the lives of everyone she knew was immeasurable. There is not a single memory I have of her that doesn’t make me smile.
I loved her stories about when she first moved to America, how she didn’t know anyone and found herself bored. One day she went out for a walk and came home with a job. She taught herself to cook because she missed foods from home and because, before they got married, her husband used to eat a pint of ice cream from Walgreens for breakfast each morning!
I love her stories about when her children were born, and when they were small and what her life was like at the same stage as mine is now. She had a way of reminding me to let go of all of the small worries that come with motherhood and see the big picture - without ever trivializing any of those small worries.
I love how every single time she crossed the threshold of our home she brought something for me. Oftentimes it was my favorite lentil dish. If we were having dinner as a group, she would squirrel it away in the depths of the fridge before anyone could see, because she knew I wanted it to keep it all to myself. Other times, it would be a piece of jewelry for me or clothes or toys for the kids. Usually it was several of these things. But what I always looked forward to was just her. Her presence. Her effervescence. Her effusive nature, her expansive hugs, the joy she flooded the room with, the way she made you feel significant, like she was so excited to see you, and also like she really saw you. She did.
I love that invariably, just as everyone would start assembling on Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter while everyone was in the kitchen finishing and warming up dishes and the atmosphere was generally sort of chaotic, she would say “I need a cup of tea! Do you have anything sweet? It’s teatime for me!” If it were anyone else, I would tell them to get out of the kitchen and wait for dinner to be served. But not her, she charmed me so thoroughly and so constantly, I could never refuse her, nor did I ever have the desire. So cookies and tea it would be, one year she fell in love with the brittle that would later top our pumpkin pie, “What is this?” she said, “It’s perfect with my tea!”. And I haven’t forgotten, so the pumpkin seed brittle will be on the menu this year along with so many fond memories of her.
She would love to see these smiling faces, eating her food.
She lived across the earth from so many of the people she loved. She lost so many people she loved as well, yet she carried all of the best parts of those people with her all the time. She spoke about them often and brought them to life with her vivid descriptions, reliving good times and funny events, moments that changed her, always with love and joy, never sadness or regrets. Her fortitude and the optimism she walked through life with is inspiring. Even as it hurts, remembering her gives me comfort. It reminds me to see the big picture and to keep trying to be the best parent, friend, spouse, person that I can be, no matter what is happening in the world. I will keep her close always.
Trying to make Masoor Daal like hers is basically an exercise in futility. Even if I had her recipe, which I don’t, and followed it to a T, which is not my forte, I know it would never be as good as hers. It’s like how sandwiches always taste better when made by someone else? Why is that? It’s definitely the love. There’s no other explanation. Still, it’s tough to ruin lentils. They are pure comfort food to me which is just what the chill in the air calls for.
As much as I didn’t want to, I shared the dal with my family who LOVED it! Even the picky eaters ate it and went back for more. Then, in tribute to this wonderful woman who I miss so much, the leftovers were immediately squirrelled away, deposited in a nondescript container in the back of my fridge where they will become my work-from-home lunch until they’re gone.
Masoor Dal
Ingredients
1 cup masoor dal (split red lentils)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2.5 cups water
½ large or 1 small tomato or ½ can diced tomatoes (if using the juice, reduce water accordingly), diced
Lime juice from one juicy or two not-so-juicy limes
1-2 tablespoons ghee or olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
Pinch of cayenne
Pinch of asafetida (optional)
Directions
Combine lentils, salt, turmeric and bay leaf with tomato and water in the insert of your electric pressure cooker.
Cook on high pressure for 10 minutes and allow the pressure to release naturally. You can do this in a pot on the stove also, just cook lentils until they are soft and mushy.
Stir in lime juice.
Heat ghee or oil in a small frying pan.
Once the ghee is melted or oil is hot, add cumin and mustard seeds until they begin to sputter and sizzle (this will happen right away).
Remove pan from burner and add red pepper flakes, cayenne and asafetida if using.
Swirl the seasonings around in the pan, then pour over the cooked lentils and stir.