coins of luck for the new year
or; a recipe for stewed lentils
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It’s almost a new year, the last bit of December trickling away through our fingers as January fast approaches. I love this time, the anticipation and daydreaming of what this coming year will bring- the clean breaking off point between the excess of December and the stripped down cleanness of January. As the Christmas decorations come down and things are cleaned, the house set to rights after the idleness of the last week, I feel inspired to organize, declutter- to prune back everything to fresh, green wood. I’ve always felt the cleft of this time of year strongly, as tangible as the snap of a chocolate bar. The trenches of reflection, the white blankness of an unwritten page, the smell of a new book. The cathartic release of letting go of, burning even, the old year.
Food traditions abound for a new year, and I love reading about them, the bits of magic and ritual that escort us across the threshold from one year to the next. One I always indulge in is a pan of braised lentils, an Italian custom. Lentils, shaped like tiny coins, represent prosperity/fortune in the new year, a tradition that is thought to date back to the Romans.
I read a story once about an Italian man whose father would carry dry lentils in his pockets year-round because of this belief and its promise of good fortune. For years he would find lentils in the pockets of the clothes he kept from his father, which I think is delightful.
These stewed lentils are very simple, flavored with a trio of onion, celery, and carrot softened in plenty of good olive oil. I realize perhaps they don’t sound very exciting, and I fear they are not beautiful, either- being mainly grey/beige. However, their simple ordinariness belies how truly delicious they are. The vegetables get slowly cooked in plenty of olive oil, which coaxes out their sweet, rich, and savory flavors. Then the lentils cook right in with them, with just some water, plenty of salt to season them from the inside out, and perhaps a bay leaf if you like- mine grow in the garden and their strong, herbal flavor is a favorite addition. Humble, sturdy, cheap, simple dishes like this are unsung heroes- not everything must be beautiful. This dish is often served with cotechino cut into coins, (a pork sausage) to represent the fat of the land, to ensure good fortune in food security, too. I usually serve it with roasted potatoes (parboiled, then drained and drizzled with oil and salt, then shaken well in the pot with the lid on to rough them up a bit for a crunchier exterior) and some kind of green such as broccoli rabe or chard, and a fennel and orange salad.
