Du Puy Lentil Sprouts

You know how it is when you travel overseas. On the day you're about to leave the country, you're stuck with small change which is too much to throw away, yet not enough to buy anything of significance or worth a schlep to a currency exchange booth for. My personal tradition is to intentionally make a fool (and pest) of myself by showing up at the smallest local bakery or convenient store, pour the coins onto the clerk's counter and, in the cutest voice I can muster, ask him/her to choose for me anything, anything, in the store my coins can buy. I don't even give them my preference; I just let them surprise me.

It amazes me how kind and decent people can be when they could easily take advantage of the situation. It's also amusing to see how people from different cultures read you. They take one look at you, go into the backroom for a few minutes, and hand you things which they think someone who looks and talks like you may want to have.

Last time I was in Kiev, I went to a small bakery run by a cute babushka and do my thing. After laughing at my Russian with Thai accent, she gave me a bag full of freshly baked poppyseed-filled Ukrainian pastry which I was sure was worth more than the money I gave her. As for why she thought I would enjoy poppyseed-filled pastry more than, say, apple-filled or cream-filled, it's beyond me.

This tradition has given me things I would never have bought by my own volition, yet am excited to have obtained. Over the years, nobody has given me anything that is beyond its shelf life, damaged, or worth less than my money. When you give people a chance to choose to be kind to you or rip you off, I have found they often choose the former. (There's only one time, in a country which will not be named, when I was clearly taken advantage of. But that's a rare exception.)

On the last day of my last trip to Paris, I did my same old spiel at a small market in Monmartre area. This time, my coins turned into bags of French du Puy lentils. I didn't ask what it was about me that made the shop owner reach for bags of dried legumes instead of crackers or chocolate. My guess is that I might have looked like I could use some fiber in my diet. I'll never know.

Du Puy lentils are somewhat expensive in the US, but they are dirt cheap in France. What makes them great is the fact that these lentils, when properly cooked, retain their shape and texture. Unlike other types of lentils, cooked French lentils remain separate instead of turning into mush.

What I'm about to say will make me look like the biggest dork to you (assuming that hasn't already happened). I think dried legumes are truly amazing in a sense that they could sit for days, months, years in your pantry looking like they have no life. But invisible to the eye is the dormant energy that is ready to burst forth life when given the opportunity.

These green lentils have brought their life energy all the way from Paris to my kitchen in the form of lentil sprouts. And I find that to be pretty awesome.

Besides these lentil sprouts taste amazing in salads and wrap sandwiches. If you have never had lentil sprouts, you really have to try them. Use a sprouter, if you have one. Otherwise, soak the lentils for 3-4 hours, drain, keep them in a colander, and water them 3-4 times a day. You should get your beautiful, nutrient-rich, delicious sprouts in 3-4 days.

Ironic, isn't it? You bring something to life only to end its life by eating it.

It's late and this post is getting loopy. I just realized I didn't have a point, after all. Good night.