Syrian Lentil Soup Brings the Holidays Home

Simplicity is a luxury when surrounded by such delightful excess.

Dec. 1. The holiday season had arrived. I was sitting on the couch surrounded by laundry, my new baby nursing, my 2-year-old doing something joyful and chaotic with a small wooden tower and a hammer when it hit me: wait, my husband and I are the grownups now.

Of course, by any reasonable measure, I’ve been a grownup for a long time. I’m a married lady who makes insurance payments and goes to the dentist every six months. Someone who is on a first-name basis with her local library staff, has a favorite grocery store. It doesn’t get much more grownup than that.

But there was something about staring down the barrel of this particular holiday season that made me realize the responsibility of adulthood in a new way. I wasn’t only in charge of my own logistical nightmares anymore: I was shaping someone else’s holiday memories, the very essence of their childhood.

Some day when my son talks about growing up in the home I’ve created, it is this season he’ll return to, the same way I talk about my own mother’s work every December (the homemade gingerbread house! The carefully selected stockings!) when I reminisce about the magic of my own childhood. The pressure is officially on, and I need to decide what the holidays mean in our house.

Finding New Traditions

Maybe all of this is feeling more real for me because we’re going to be home this year for Christmas. Part of this is enforced by the universe (hello, new baby), but even before I knew she was coming, we had decided not to travel for the holidays as we usually do.

This is a big change for our family. My husband teaches, so winter break is one of the times of year we could get away. Before we started having children, we would be on the road every holiday season, spending Christmas Eve on an airplane, or ringing in the new year on a rooftop in Marrakech.

But last Christmas, sitting with my first baby on my lap and watching tables full of suntoasted Brits drink cocktails on an overcast Indonesian beach, I was officially over it. It was time to put down roots, to start building holiday traditions of our own. It was time to settle in and embrace the cozy season, with big flavors and nourishing vibes.

I’ve got big plans for the rest of the month—orange slices drying in the oven to make garlands, the address of an organic Christmas tree farm. I’m taking the responsibility of being the designated grownup seriously. But I also, you know, literally just gave birth. I needed a way to start off the season that felt nourishing and supportive, but also easy, tied to tradition but also something of our own.

My Grandmother’s Pottage, A Cure for the Christmas Craziness

The cure, for now, is soup. After a one-week hiatus during which I was fed by my husband and our lovely friends who signed up for a meal train, my great grandmother’s red lentil soup was exactly what I was craving–an affirmation of the simplicity and ease that can come with being a grownup on your own terms.

It’s also a helpful reminder that one of the best things about being around for the holiday season is the culinary excess—so many chances to eat your body weight in cookies and go overboard on a charcuterie board. I’m trying to embrace the spirit of holiday excess this year, but I know all too well how easy it is to end up resenting rather than appreciating the abundance. Simplicity is a luxury when surrounded by such delightful excess.

This soup comes together in less than ten minutes of active time, which for me consisted of pouring together the lentils and water and getting them comfortably simmering on the stove. My toddler manned the mortar and pestle as we worked half a head of garlic and some coriander into a paste, eating and then sprinkling in a pinch of kosher salt as the baby slept cozily in her carrier.

It was funny being back on my feet again, funny being returned to the world of doing and making things after that dreamy first week of baby-enforced inactivity. But as we worked together, I finally started to feel a little more at home in this new stage of life. Yes, I’m the grownup now. Maybe that doesn’t have to be such a bad thing.

Syrian Red Lentil Soup

1 cup lentils

5 cups water

6 cloves garlic

1 tbsp whole coriander seeds

Generous pinch kosher salt

Olive oil

Lemon juice

Optional: croutons

½ cup of stale bread, sliced or torn into pieces

Olive oil

Cook the lentils in 5 cups of water until they break down into a thick porridge, about 15 minutes.

While the lentils cook, mash the garlic in a mortar and pestle with the coriander seeds and a generous pinch of kosher salt until a thick paste forms. Fry in a pan with a little olive oil until aromatic, then stir into the lentils and cook for an additional 15 minutes to allow the flavors to meld.

If you want croutons (trust me: you want croutons) cook the bread in the same pan you used for your coriander mixture for about five minutes, until well toasted and crispy. Sprinkle on top of your soup, savor, and enjoy.

Emily Beyda’s writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Built, Refinery29, Smartmouth, Fodors, the Thrillist, the Austin Chronicle, and more. Her novel, “The Body Double,” was published in 2021.

A special and hearty congratulations from The Contrarian to Emily and her family on their recent addition, a beautiful baby girl.

---