the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I haven't done this in a while. Cook, I mean. 

I've decided it's time I went back "healthy." I prefer to eat healthy. It tastes better and I feel better. It just takes effort because I have to, you know, actually go in the kitchen for something other than wine. 

Today's quasi-experiment is what I'll call Diana's Pottage.*

* Do try this at home. 

I make this stuff up as I go along. It goes like this....

I look in the cupboard and discover a bag of lentils (in this case). Those lentils did not give up their lives for nothing--they deserve to be cooked and eaten. I already know I'm going to need certain basics: onions, garlic, boullion, and red pepper flakes. I pop by the store and pick up random stuff I don't yet have. 

I get up the next morning, have some tea, and look up lentil soup recipes. Even when I have cookbooks, I look up several such recipes, to make sure I've thought of all the ingredients I want and have some idea how much of each to combine and how long to cook things, etc. After reading anywhere from five to fifteen similar recipes, I sally forth to the kitchen, usually without any written recipe in tow. I just work from the general idea in my head. 

You'll note that I do that out of order. An organized person would check recipes then go to the store. Alas. I opt for the motivation of having found some yummy recipes and being immediately motivated to stir something up. Each to his own. 

So: Diana's Pottage: 

Start with one huge honking yellow onion (diced) and fresh cloves of garlic (crushed), to taste. (I think I used about six, but it all depends on what you consider a "clove" of garlic, doesn't it? Garlic cloves are infinitely unmeasurable things.) Dump about four tablespoons of olive oil in a large pot, combine the diced onion, your crushed/minced garlic, and red pepper flakes to taste.* Turn on low heat and stir occasionally. 

* Don't you hate when recipes call for you to add something "to taste" in the early stages? Like you're going to know what it tastes like before it's too late. In this case, I used about 1/8th of a teaspoon, but I really like some kick in my dishes. 

So while that's sizzling, wash those lentils, which can be any color you choose. They sometimes have little rocks and such in them, which can ruin a perfectly delightful dining experience. 

When the onion is translucent and the house smells heavenly, add about eight cups of water, the lentils, and a couple of bay leaves.* I like my boiled vegetables to be flavored with boullion, which is salty indeed, so I let that be the salt. In this case, I added about 9 teaspoons of beef boullion. Then I tossed in a teaspoon each of thyme and chili powder, and about a tablespoon of parsley. Now, it's simmering for the requisite 30 - 50 minutes, and we'll see how it turns out. 

* I have Turkish bay leaves. How these differ from the usual American (?) type, I have no idea. Maybe there's just a tad darker complected. 

I have a nasty habit of over-spicing my dishes, probably because I just like kick-ass flavor. Thus, I actually bothered to measure this time, and keep the amounts of each spice limited. In most cases, less is more. 

***

While that's cooking, I guess we can chat about my trip back to Izmir. Mich and I were up at 0300 Monday so we could bathe and dress and get me to Denver in time for a 0615 flight. We missed a turn on the way to the airport (that's on both of us, as we were too busy talking and not spending enough time watching the signs on I-25 coming into Denver), and I barely made it in time to check my bags. The ticket lady for Delta politely explained that, due to my lateness, my bags may not make it, and I would have to go back to the airport to get them. 

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, really. I've had that happen a couple of times. Stuff happens to bags, you know? They take vacations without you sometimes. The problem here is that I have one itinerary to get back to Norfolk from Denver via Atlanta because I had bought this round trip ticket after my TDY in Norfolk. Uncle Sam had purchased the round-trip tickets from Izmir to Norfolk (for my TDY). That means that, from Denver, my bags were initially checked only to Norfolk, where I'd have to pick them up then schlep them back to the ticket counter and recheck them. 

Obviously, the plan could be complicated if my bags didn't make it to Norfolk. I told the nice lady that I understood and I bolted for the gate. I made it in just under the wire. I figured I had about five hours to work out an alternate plan to pursue in the event my bags didn't actually make it to Norfolk. It crossed my mind that my problem was, perchance, unusual, but not unheard of. My two options were to see if Delta would send my bags to Izmir (even if I had to pay extra) or to change my Norfolk-to-Izmir itinerary (via Detroit, Paris, and Istanbul) until my bags caught up to me. I told myself it would be okay one way or another, eventually, and promptly went to sleep (nothing makes my day like discovering I have an entire row of plane seats to myself, particularly for a flight that early in the morning; I stretch out and slip into a coma. It's marvelous.) 

Turns out, Delta baggage handlers were totally on the ball. I made it to Norfolk on schedule, got my bags (no problem), booked them for their next holiday, and hopped on a plane to Detroit, and from thence to Paris (in which I slept pretty much from takeoff until we were at the gate--YES!). 

Oh...this is an interesting change I noticed on this international trip: at no point was I required to fetch my bags stateside, walk through customs with them, and put them back on a conveyor belt. Until now, every flight I've taken overseas will make a stop in New York or Dulles and make us all do the bag drag and get back on the flight to go on across the Atlantic. This was not required this time. (?) 

Anyhow...I enjoyed the Paris airport briefly, which is to say it was nice to stretch my legs, and I was on a flight to Istanbul. At Istanbul, I assumed my bags would be checked through to Izmir (and why not?), but by the time I'd done the hike from the international terminal to the domestic one, I had second thoughts and doubled back. It's a good thing, too. They weren't checked through. Also, they weren't there. 

I was now in the capable hands of Air France, who did a little search and informed me that my bags were, as we spoke, on their way to Paris. Oh goodie. 

I made arrangements to have my bags delivered to my doorstep sometime on Friday, then went to my gate where I missed my (now delayed) flight. I was too tired to care at this point. I decided I'd deal with it in the morning, walked outside, hailed a taxi, and asked to be taken to a hotel, where I was promptly bilked for a decent night's sleep. I woke the next morning refreshed, and skipped the bath/shower because I felt I needed to get to the airport urgently. I was prepared to suck up the price of a one-way ticket to Izmir, but as it turns out, the US government insures their tickets and I was able to simply reschedule. I had no need of a taxi when I got to Izmir, since I didn't have any bags other than the backpack I was carrying, and I hopped the Metro home. 

Damon had taken care of my house and even had the lock fixed in my absence (I'd jacked up the lock the night before I departed, so I had had to leave the door unlocked, call him from the states, and beg him to pop by and lock it using the lower key which was hanging in the lock, so my apartment would be secured). The lock he had fixed worked great. The problem was, he had also locked the bottom one (the Fort Knox one) which I normally never bother with and didn't have an extra key to. But no problem. I felt fine. I'd had a good night's sleep, and I wanted to go see Bahar, anyway. 

Ohbytheway...I also didn't have a phone. You can't use US phones in Turkey; Turkey has very tight restrictions on cell phones. I needed my Turkish cell, which I'd left in my luggage because the battery was dead and I wouldn't be able to use it until I got home (or so my reasoning went), at which time I'd have my luggage. Right? Apparently, that was bad logic. I now had lost luggage with no way for the airlines to contact me and only a vague idea of when the luggage would arrive, and I was locked out of my house and had no way to contact my best bud, aka The Keeper Of the Keys. So? Bahar. 

Bahar solves all. She is the gathering place, the person with contacts, the nerve center of most of NATO's social life. So I popped into her carpet shop in all my unwashed glory. She was happy to see me and (I think) didn't even notice what I considered to be a bit of a stench. We chatted for a bit and I explained about my apartment. She offered to call Damon. I was like, "If you don't mind?" Whereupon we chatted a bit and I asked if maybe he could come by Bahar's with the keys so I could get into the apartment. I was happy to wait. Bahar is great company and keeps a supply of grape juice handy to keep us entertained, drunk, and malleable. 

When I got the key, I popped off to the apartment which was, I was happy to find, not reeking of rotted refrigerator food or anything nasty like that. There was another tiny problem, though: I had no hot water. I bundled up in soft clean clothes that would hopefully keep me from smelling myself and climbed into bed. 

The next morning when I woke up--around 1030, since I didn't have my phone/alarm clock--I went to work and used a gym shower. And there was much rejoicing. 

I had to wear civilian clothing at work, too. My uniforms were visiting the Champs-Élysées about then, probably enjoying a nice croissant. I left early to visit the housing office downtown so they could fix my issue. The landlord's representative popped out the next morning to fix the problem; he couldn't (which vindicated me, because otherwise I'd just be the dufus again who forgot how to work the mechanics), and sent out service repair that afternoon, who provided me with hot water. 

I postponed taking a hot shower because I was expecting my luggage to be delivered at any minute. When darkness fell,  though, I gave up and got in the shower. I had just gotten drenched with deliciously hot water when I heard the doorbell. 

Yup: luggage. Excellent timing, boys! How do you do it? 

***

Pottage results: It turned out perfect. I'm glad I wrote it down. 

It cooks down, of course. It goes from being a soup-like mixture to being beans with some soupy liquid for flavor. Serve in a bowl, though. You want the soupy part. 

Merry Christmas Eve, y'all. :)

d