mama eats

mama eats

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lentil, asparagus, herb salad

lentil, asparagus, herb salad

one foot in spring

Amanda Leigh's avatar
Amanda Leigh
Apr 01, 2025
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mama eats
mama eats
lentil, asparagus, herb salad
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Welcome to mamaeats, a twice-weekly newsletter (Tues. & Sat.) inspired by a simple + seasonal home life. I’m a mother of three, avid reader, gardener, and home cook who focuses on nourishing, whole food meals with a focus on plants. This newsletter is my labor of love, and it means so much that you are here. If you are not already, and are able to do so, please consider becoming a subscriber to support my work here. This gives you access to all the archives and recipes (find the recipe index here), as well as cook-along videos which go along with most recipes.

This week’s newsletter comes from a forgotten draft in the archives, written around 2021 and never published. I came across it and thought it was the perfect time to send it out. I hope you enjoy it.

Getting back into things after you’ve left for a period can be tricky, I always think it feels a bit like trying to step onto a merry-go-round as a child. It’s going round and round and round, faster than you can jump, you think. You want to get on with your friends, you intend to, but just as you’ve worked up the nerve, whoosh, there it goes right past you. Sometimes it takes a few tries before you jump and end up on it. Likewise, I’ve sat down to write many times over the last six or so months and have found, well, not much to say or share. Whoosh. Writing- and inspiration or creativity in general- seems to often be this way, where there’s either quite a bit flowing or not much at all. And forcing something is never the answer, like squeezing blood from a stone, I think that’s what the saying is. Patience is required to sail steadily through and reach the other side. One of the gifts of getting older is that you begin to be able to see beyond now; you have the experience to know that when there is emptiness, fullness always follows. Emptiness cannot stay forever, and as the stillness of winter is yielding to spring’s unfurling, I cannot help but to also feel that shift.

Here in California, it is exuberantly, joyously, spring. We don’t get a very cold winter, there’s no snow and few hard frosts, but it can be drab. Over the years I have taught myself to see the beauty in this also, everything stripped down to its bones so that it can rest and begin anew when the time is right. There’s beauty in the bareness, being able to see clearly the structures that support, the oaks with their gnarled and bumpy branches like the beauty of old hands, the stories locked within. The evidence of a life well lived, scars and bumps and spots. All the same, when the sea of brown and gray in the landscape suddenly, overnight it seems, is draped in spring’s bright, new green, it is incredible. This green is ephemeral, fleeting, and thus a visual treat to savor before the scorching sun of summer bleaches it gold. After this first green comes the first tastes of real color, the gentle blush of blossoms. Almond blossoms first, fields and fields of the trees decked out in showgirl finery, as fluffy as cotton candy, their petals making California snow as they come to their end. Next are redbuds with their pea- like, tiny fuchsia flowers, and the bright fuzzy yellow of mimosa. I bought white daffodil bulbs this fall, but they came up a yellow bright enough to make you squint and look away, sunshine in flower form. Maybe Mother Nature knew I could use a little extra color this year.

But the green. The green of the grasses, lush and soft and verdant, is mirrored also in the best that early spring produce has to offer. Now is the time to gorge on peas, leeks, artichokes, asparagus, spinach, fava beans, which are all just as ephemeral as the grass. So, here is a seasonal recipe to celebrate the green newness of spring.

french lentil and asparagus salad

notes: this recipe is one I make all year round, but never the same, always with varied ingredients depending on what’s in season and what I’ve got on hand. It’s very forgiving and adaptable, so feel free to make it your own. Use cannellini beans or chickpeas instead of lentils. Lemon juice, apple cider vinegar or another acid can stand in for white wine vinegar. Other vegetables can swap for the asparagus (leeks and peas for spring, grilled zucchini, aubergine, tomatoes and basil for summer, roasted butternut and caramelized onions in winter, roasted beets and walnuts with a handful arugula…) A veg feta crumbled over the top would be lovely, as is half roasted new potatoes and half lentils… the possibilities are endless, really. A variation I’ve been using often lately is to swap out the vinegar for an equal amount of lemon juice, and adding in a handful of chopped preserved lemon, which is lovely with the asparagus.

1 cup // 200g French lentils (black/beluga lentils also work nicely)
a bunch of asparagus
2 tbsp white wine vinegar (not distilled white)
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
a tbsp of dijon mustard
a few green onions or a shallot
a very large handful of parsley (dill or mint, or a mix of them would work nicely too)
salt + pepper

Gather up all your ingredients, turn on some nice music, roll up your sleeves, and wash your hands. Let’s start. First, the lentils. Rinse the lentils and bring them to a boil in a pot with 4 cups water and a few teaspoons of salt- one of the best things you can do while cooking legumes from scratch is to salt them well. Once it boils, reduce the heat to a lively simmer and cook until tender but still retaining a firmness, ie not mushy, usually about 20 minutes. Pour through a strainer and let them sit in it to drain off all the liquid.

While the lentils are boiling, prepare the asparagus. Snap the tough ends off and place on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper to taste. Place under broiler of oven (or, roast or sauté them if you don’t have a broiler) and cook until tender and slightly browned at the tips, 5 minutes or less in my oven. Remove and set aside.

Make the vinaigrette: In a large bowl, whisk together the vinegar, olive oil, dijon, and salt + pepper to taste. Add the drained, hot lentils (adding while hot/warm will help them soak up the vinaigrette and be flavored nicely). Toss well. Let sit 10 minutes so that they can cool a bit before adding the herbs, which can blacken or diminish in flavor from too much heat.

While you are waiting for them to cool, chop up the asparagus into bite size pieces, the spring onion (if using shallot, chop it finely), and the parsley. After the ten minutes, add it all to the bowl of marinated lentils and toss well. Taste and if needed, add more olive oil/vinegar, salt/pepper.

We served this with a big green salad (I used the same vinaigrette as the lentils on it) and whole wheat sourdough buns (my usual sourdough recipe, with some whole wheat flour in it, and divided into bun shapes instead of one boule). It would also be wonderful alongside some roasted mustardy potatoes (new potatoes, whole grain mustard, olive oil, salt, pepper, lemon juice) and steamed artichokes. Leftovers hold up well for a couple days in the fridge.

French Lentil Asparagus Salad
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For paid subscribers, find the cook-along video below, let’s make it together xx A

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