Amitié

The thin, beadboard like hardwood floors of the hallway that leads from my bathroom to my bedroom radiated the warm, steamy fragrance of the crushed lavender blossoms that had been steeping in my bathwater. The floorboards almost bowed under my feet as I sunk into the cozy sauna that had been created in my half of a big white house on a charming village street. Every once in awhile, when I fall off the face of the Earth for an indefinite period of time, I need a little bit of genuine, self-inflicted comfort to help bring me back to life, awaken my senses again, and remind me that I still exist within the comings and goings, the business, the activity of every day life.

This particular night I had chosen lavender. If you hadn't noticed, I have been away from my usual blogging, from my weekly routine for a few weeks. If I have learned anything in my short twenty-four years on this Earth, it's that life happens and we must let it. In fact, there are times when we welcome life's arrival, because it means greater happiness, fulfillment and joy within our lives. The interruptions incurred on my usual schedule have been welcomed with open arms over the past six weeks. Exhausting? Yes. Procrastination? A definite result. Worth it? Undoubtedly. I decided last night that lavender was going to help bring me back down, to re-ground me and make me focus again.

The name lavender comes from the Latin verb "lavare" which means "to wash." Biblically it was known as "nard," and is mentioned in one of my favorite books, of which I've written before--The Song of Solomon. The Romans began the transition from nard to lavender as it was used commonly in their baths, as it was realized that lavender is good for the skin. I am a firm believer in the power of the mind, and the romance that lies in the connotation of lavender is right up my alley. Thoughts of it immediately draw up soothing sentiments, the smell of warm herbal tea, and for me, of onions and carrots sweating and softening in perfectly warmed olive oil, and the aroma of crushed Herbes De Provence seeping into the walls of my home. My soothing lavender bath, where I got back in touch with myself was an appropriate precursor to conjuring a big pot of French Lentil Soup, Queen Honeybea style, heavily seasoned with Herbes de Provence and reminiscent of friendship.

I have this friend, see. She's one of the best I've ever had. She is a self-identified Francophile, and for some time now I've been wanting to make this soup for her, after a candid discussion of Herbes De Provence over some dusty old books in a kitchy thrift store. Herbes De Provence is a simple mixture of some fabulously French and Mediterranean flavors: savory, fennel, basil and thyme. I learned recently that the addition of lavender to the mixture is purely an American nuance. I found that to be only appropriate for making this soup for my friend. French flavors with a little American twist; as if I stirred a portion of myself into the soup, which is always my goal when sharing my food with others. While I've been fairly preoccupied with the happenings of my own life lately, this friend always reminds me that I am cared for greatly.

It amazes me how taking time for myself actually makes me realize my humble place in life's greater picture. When I was finally presented with silence in the darkness of a warm bath, and my mind was free to relax, my thoughts went immediately to those I love. I haven't had much time to think about them lately, outside of work and life and life's little wonders and the stress of straining to see the future. Then I found myself alone, thinking of my dear friend who had just so happened to text me and say nothing more than "What happenin ladyyyy," which led to an entire conversation about the things that were making my life chaotic. She reminded me that I have human obligations to my friendships and my family, and that they aren't obligations, but rather privileges and blessings. So I steeped in lavender and thought excitedly about crafting my French Lentil Soup for her, and for me and for the people we love; about sharing fellowship and friendship, laughing and knowing we have more than just our own two feet with which to walk through life. Lavender and friendship have pulled me back to Earth for now, but I'm not so naieve as to miss chasing clouds when I can. I can only hope they will always lead me to vibrant purple fields of lavender, to friendship and to love. Bon Appétit.

Queen Honeybea's
French Lentil Soup
(Serves 6)

1 lb. of Organic French Green Lentils, sorted and rinsed
Boiling water
3 TBS. extra-virgin olive oil
1 large organic yellow onion, chopped
2 cloves of local garlic, minced
5 large organic carrots, peeled and chopped into 1/4" half circles
1 tsp. dried ground cumin
1/2 tsp. dried ground rosemary
1/2 tsp. dried thyme leaves
1 TBS. dried Herbes de Provence (with Lavender)
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. dried black pepper
2 quarts organic, free-range, low-sodium chicken stock
3 large local red potatoes, peeled and diced to 1/2" pieces
1/4 cup dry red wine
Salt and Pepper to Taste
Extra-virgin olive oil for serving

1. In a large bowl, cover the lentils with at least 2 inches of boiling water. Let sit for 15 minutes, then drain. Set aside.

2. In the meantime, in a large stock pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the chopped onion. Cook stirring often until onions are tender, translucent and sweating, about 10 minutes. Add the minced garlic, and cook stirring constantly for 30 seconds. Add the diced carrots, cumin, rosemary, thyme, Herbes de Provence, salt and pepper. Cook stirring frequently until the carrots are lightly tender and the entire house smells delicious, about 10 minutes.

3. Add to the pot the chicken stock and prepared lentils. Increase heat and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer aggressively for 30 minutes, stirring every so often. After 30 minutes, add the potatoes and the red wine. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as needed. Simmer for 30 more minutes, stirring occassionally.

4. Serve piping hot. Drizzle additional extra-virgin olive oil over each bowl and serve with crusty French bread (baguette or galette).