This blog hosts articles contributed by members of the Chicago Zen Center. For news about events at the Center and in Chicago, please visit our Sorting the Dal
by Jody Wilson
"Sort and wash two-thirds cups of split mung dal," directed the writer of Lord Krishna's Cuisine, referring me to page 21. There I found a description of the "time honoured ritual" of sorting and washing dal (dried peas and beans). I probably wouldn't have done it if the author hadn't described it as an "archaic time intensive dual phase process." But who can resist participating in a ritual, particularly in preparation for a time honoured dish like Sada Moong Dal, which deserves whatever attention one can bring to it. So I pull out my cookie sheet (as directed), pour out the dry dal and begin to ritualistically "pick out the unwanted matter."
A preliminary exam proves disappointing. My dal is untainted by "unwanted matter." So much for ritual. No, wait. . .what's that? A stem! Yes, definitely a stem. And another. I begin to sort more quickly and, in my haste, inadvertently lose the stems in the dal. I read the directions for the time honoured ritual again. "Working on a small amount. . ." Okay. Oh, a little tiny stone. No, just a piece of dal husk. Or is it? Where did it go? Start again. Moving my fingers through the dal lightly now. No hurry. I discover the most effective way to remove a bit of diminutive debris is to keep my finger on it and ever so slowly push it into the furthermost corner of the cookie sheet. Really slowing down now, really looking. God, these tiny beans are beautiful! What a sweet soft green they are, like spring. I start to see individual lentils. This one is ever so slightly larger. The skin on this one is perfect. This one is a squidge smaller. That one is very green, almost black. This one is still a bit yellow. How lovely they all are!
Entranced, I put the sorted dal in a sieve, and submerge it in a bowl of water. I rub the dal gently, as if I'm washing my hands with it. I notice that wet lentils smell like a child's garden. The moist dal clings to my hands like lacy agate gloves. I rinse again and again, pouring out the water until it finally runs clear.
I love simple mung dal soup.
"Sort and wash two-thirds cups of split mung dal," directed the writer of Lord Krishna's Cuisine, referring me to page 21. There I found a description of the "time honoured ritual" of sorting and washing dal (dried peas and beans). I probably wouldn't have done it if the author hadn't described it as an "archaic time intensive dual phase process." But who can resist participating in a ritual, particularly in preparation for a time honoured dish like Sada Moong Dal, which deserves whatever attention one can bring to it. So I pull out my cookie sheet (as directed), pour out the dry dal and begin to ritualistically "pick out the unwanted matter."
A preliminary exam proves disappointing. My dal is untainted by "unwanted matter." So much for ritual. No, wait. . .what's that? A stem! Yes, definitely a stem. And another. I begin to sort more quickly and, in my haste, inadvertently lose the stems in the dal. I read the directions for the time honoured ritual again. "Working on a small amount. . ." Okay. Oh, a little tiny stone. No, just a piece of dal husk. Or is it? Where did it go? Start again. Moving my fingers through the dal lightly now. No hurry. I discover the most effective way to remove a bit of diminutive debris is to keep my finger on it and ever so slowly push it into the furthermost corner of the cookie sheet. Really slowing down now, really looking. God, these tiny beans are beautiful! What a sweet soft green they are, like spring. I start to see individual lentils. This one is ever so slightly larger. The skin on this one is perfect. This one is a squidge smaller. That one is very green, almost black. This one is still a bit yellow. How lovely they all are!
Entranced, I put the sorted dal in a sieve, and submerge it in a bowl of water. I rub the dal gently, as if I'm washing my hands with it. I notice that wet lentils smell like a child's garden. The moist dal clings to my hands like lacy agate gloves. I rinse again and again, pouring out the water until it finally runs clear.
I love simple mung dal soup.
<< Home