Brrr, winter season is right around the corner and this soup fills me up and keeps me nice and toasty. One of the best things I love about Paris is that it is full of ethnic diversities. You can find pockets of many ethnic communities spread thoughout this city. I love the idea of being able to dash over to the 15th arrondisement just to pick up a date syrup at a Persian grocery store. This is where you will find a restaurant row of Persian cuisine and grocery stores a.k.a Petite Perse or Little Téhéran. As I enter the grocery store, my sensory receptors are instantly heightened, things seem foreign and I am intrigued. This is where I can easily pass an hour picking up every jar and package to decipher its labels, discover ingredients and wonder how these things are used. What gives me pleasure is the feeling of having purchased my date syrup straight from Persia—minus the cost of airfare and flight time! I appreciate every drop of syrup that comes out of the jar because I know it has traveled a long way. Plus, it's a nice conversation piece. "Oh, the date syrup? I bought that from ̶P̶e̶r̶s̶i̶a̶, umm—I mean the Persian grocers in the 15th..."

I can carry on about other goodies that I buy from Litte Africa (Chateau Rouge in the 18e), Chinatown (Ave de Choisy in the 13e, Arts et Métiers in the 3e, Belleville in the 10e, and Little Tokyo (rue St. Anne in the 1er and 2e) but it'll be a long list. Today I was in La Chapelle (Little India in the 10e) for a baby bump portrait session. I was early so I picked up some mangoes and red split lentils for this recipe and made a pit stop at the no-frills Indian take-out joint for its chai. With my hands cupped around the chai, I stepped out in the cold and hovered over it. I took in the scent of spices wafting up from my masala chai, lifting my head towards the streets in front of me and with a long exhalation felt removed from wherever it is that I come from. It didn't matter.
Today, I was in India.

Red Split Lentil Soup

INGREDIENTS//serves 6

• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
• 3 carrots, diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 1 onion, diced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 bay leaf
• 1.5 teaspoons coarse salt (adapt according to taste)
• 2 teaspoons cumin seeds
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 1.5 liters vegetable or chicken broth
• 2 cups lentil (red or yellow split lentils)
• 1/2 teaspoon curry powder
• 1/2 teaspoon curcuma (or tumeric powder)
• Bunch of fresh coriander (cilantro)
• 1 wedge of lime

INSTRUCTIONS

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a medium Dutch oven or heavy pot. Then add the diced carrots, celery, onion, minced garlic and bay leaf. Add some salt and mix. Cover the pot and let it cook for 5 minutes.

Uncover and add the cumin seeds, stirring it around. Then add the tomato paste, the liter of vegetable broth and lentils. Bring it to a boil.

Turn down the heat to a low simmer. Add the curry powder and curcuma. Cover and let it simmer for about 15 minutes or until the lentils are soft.

I usually take a cup of the soup and pour it in the blender with a small handful of fresh coriander. Then I stir this back in with the rest of the pot. It gives it a chunkier consistency. Squeeze a bit of lime and garnish with fresh coriander.

NOTE

It's kind of a cross between lentil soup and lentil curry. You can add more liquid to it for a soupier mix or less liquid for a thicker consistency. If you opt for the thicker consistency, you can top it over some basmati rice for a more filling and curry like meal.

P.S. I just had to throw this one in the mix...

I have a deep affection for this sweet pastry. It was introduced to me when I arrived in France 10 years ago at a dinner in my friend's apartment. We didn't speak much of each other's languages at the time but I figured I should be the one making the effort since I was living in her country. Mainly I was impressed by her incredible patience in listening to my very broken French and with her subtle corrections—which proves she was actually listening to me—encouraging me to carry on as if I was fluent as a singing bird (mind you, wine was involved). Then she won me over as she came out with a beautiful plate of cannelés bordelais. I bit into one and fell in love. I never had anything like this texture. A thick caramelized chewy crust with a soft, moist custard center. I had to know how to make it. The next time I saw Sandrine—my quintessential French friend, with her Jean Seberg styled crop and pretty make-up free face—she gifted me the recipe and the particular mold the cannéles are baked in. It was the perfect, thoughtful gift with a French touch. I am sharing a song by Étienne Daho, another cultural lesson well learned by her. So when you take out your tray of baked cannelés to Étienne Daho's whispery voice in the back, top it off with a "voilà" and suddenly we feel so à la française!

Cannelés Bordelais

PREPARATION TIME

15 minutes plus an hour of refigeration time, even overnite if you want to prepare ahead.

BAKE TIME

1 hour

INGREDIENTS//yields 16

• 1/2 liter whole milk (2cups)
• 1/2 stick vanilla (slit lengthwise)
• 2 egg yolks
• 2 whole eggs
• 250 grams powdered sugar (2 cups)
• 100 grams flour (3/4 cup)
• 50 grams butter (3.6 tablespoons)
• 1 tablespoon rhum

INSTRUCTIONS

Heat the milk and infuse the vanilla stick in the hot milk. Once it starts to boil, turn off the heat and cover the pot. Set it aside to cool.

Melt the butter and let it cool.

In a medium size mixing bowl, combine the flour and sugar.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs together (the whole eggs and the egg yolks). Then add it to the sugar and flour mix. You can stir by hand or by mixer until its consistency becomes slightly thick and smooth.

Take the vanilla stick out of the cooled down milk and add it to the flour, sugar, and egg combination. Continue to stir everything together.

Add the butter, and continue to mix in the rhum.

Let the batter sit an hour in the fridge or even overnight. You will find that the batter settles a bit at the bottom after refigerating. Just stir it gently and then fill the cannelés mold up half way. Place in oven for an hour at 350° F or 180° C. I usually check the crust while it's in the oven. I like it when the crust gets more than golden brown. When it's done, take it out of the oven and let it cool. Voilà!