Farmhouse Cooking in the Outer-Boroughs

Somewhere between "throw-a-frozen-pizza-in-the-oven" and "something-fancy" is the perfect weeknight meal. It should involve one pot, preferably, and it never hurts if it's comprised entirely of pantry staples. And sometimes, through some kind of magic, you turn the page in one of your most beloved cookbooks to find something that doesn't sound too hard or too time consuming and doesn't have an ingredients list as long as your arm. In fact, it sounds elegant. It was there all along, and it sounds like what you'd like to have for dinner on a Thursday.

In case I haven't told you this about me, I think of myself as descended from farmer stock. My mother grew up on one of the oldest dairy farms in New England. This means not only that I am genetically unfit for cubicle work, but that literary descriptions of wide-open spaces appeal to me for a reason. Clean air, gardens, farmhouse kitchens -- they're in my bones.

I found The Farmhouse Cookbook one rainy day in one of my favorite creaky used bookshops. Susan Hermann Loomis wrote this cookbook after two years of driving around the U.S. visiting farms and peeking over the shoulder of farmhouse cooks. The recipes are from the cooks I most respect; not fancy pants chefs but cooks, serving good, honest food, three times a day to people who have worked hard and are hungry. To me, a woman who can barely eke out two home-cooked dinners a week, this is damn near a feat of grace.

I have a semi-permanent house guest right now. Though we can't offer him even a modicum of privacy in our little one bedroom apartment, I want him to feel welcomed. I want him to feel a sense of, dare I say it?, abundance living with us for these weeks, despite the fact he is cramped onto an uncomfortable futon with a thin, scratchy blanket. I can bring him a beer when he looks tired, and let him keep the game on through dinner, but my biggest gesture, the best gesture I can make to say to someone is, here, I took some time and threw some things together. I hope you like it.



Lamb and Lentils
adapted from The Farmhouse Cookbook

2 teaspoons olive oil
1 pound boneless lamb cut into 1/2 inch chunks
2 cups water
1 cup lentils
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
10 peppercorns
4 springs fresh thyme or 1/2 teaspoon dried
4 large fresh sage leaves, or 1/2 teaspoon crumbled dried
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
zest of 1/2 lemon
2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch rounds
2 cups coarsely chopped green cabbage

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat and cook lamb until brown on all sides, about 3-4 minutes a side. Stir in the water, lentils, onion, garlic, salt, peppercorns, and herbs. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium, cooking until the lentils are tender but still slightly firm to the bite. Lentils can vary widely in cooking times depending on their age, so this could take anywhere from 20 to 40 minutes. Add lemon juice, zest, carrots cabbage, and cook until the cabbage is wilted and the carrots are tender, about 15 minutes. Dinner is served, and only one pot to clean.