Blue Nile

Hallo frand.

Let me ask you something that I asked myself earlier.

What do you know about lentils?

I asked myself what I knew about lentils while I was meditating earlier.

It was not a good time to ask.

Maybe I was wondering about lentils because I was hungry and thinking of food while I was meditating.

I do that shyt all the time!

Not about lentils necessarily.

But about food.

I don’t know if I am a good meditator.

I must not be.

I spend most of the time thinking about food.

You shouldn’t ask yourself what you know about lentils while yer meditating, I don’t think.

But then this strange made-up guru or sage voice enters my head and tells me that it’s fine to think of lentils while you meditate. It tells me that I can think about whatever kind of food that I want. That if that’s where my mind is going, then just let it lead me there.

The made-up guru or sage in my head is me, by the way, which is irritating.

I’d like the guru or sage that I was making up in my head to be somebody else that I could trust and take seriously, but no go.

Anyway, I thought about lentils for the rest of the time that I was sat there and I came to a conclusion…

I don’t really know shyt about lentils

Even though I eat them all the time,  all I could think of is that there are lots of different colored lentils and that I like them all very much.

That’s it.

And so I realized that lentils fall into the vast and ever-expanding category of the many many things I enjoy often, yet take completely for granted.

In order to remedy this, I decided that I’d look up lentils for a little while.

I’m glad that I did.

Here are a few things that I found:

1. Us humans have been munching lentils for
10,000 years.

That makes eating lentils an activity that you could to describe to others as Neolithic, and I encourage you
to do so.

Someone could ask you, what should we cook
for dinner tonight?

So that seems like a fair trade to me.

3. Lentils have been found in many Egyptian tombs.

This just rules. These Egyptians were like bury me with all of my most important shyt from this life, and that shortlist included lentils. I’m not going to, but if I were going to be buried when I die I’d definitely take some food w me.

Turns out there’s a whole lot of info about lentils floating around out there. Much much more than I included here.

I just knew there would be.

Here’s another great thing about lentils; Blue Nile uses them in a bunch of their dishes.

Lucky us!

Because that’s where us VegHedz are headed tonight.

To fulfill our sick Neolithic desires.

*****

It’s hard talking about the Blue Nile like other restaurants.

It’s hard talking about the Blue Nile like other restaurants.

This is because it’s not like other restaurants.

Not like any other restaurants we know
around here, anyway.

There is food and seating and drinks and there are waiters and waitresses and that’s about where the similarities end.

And I mean this in a very good way.

Eating at Blue Nile is more of a sensual experience than it is common dining.

We walked in from humid spring all wet with rain, and you know what inside felt like?

Not only is it all you can eat, which for two people that are very very hungry might be just over one full platter, but it’s because you get to taste everything there is to offer too — and you won’t want to miss out on any of the flavors.

The platter is served with each dish portioned out in small heaps over soft and perfect injera bread, with more soft and perfect injera bread served on the side.

We are not afraid of humid spring.

That would be ridiculous.

How nice to be someplace where the AC isn’t roaring away to keep everything feeling clinical inside.

And where it’s only as bright as the dim lamps and whatever daylight is let in through the wide
front window.

After seating you, bringing over some cold water, and taking yer orders, you’re served towels that are steaming wet and hot — these are for you to use to wash up your hands before you eat.

I can never resist using mine on my face a little bit, just to open up a little and breathe in the warm air.

And I’ll never stop doing it either.

We are not afraid of humid spring.

You can order items piecemeal, or go for the platter.

We always go for the platter.

If you don’t know what injera bread is, I’ll tell you.

It’s a fermented spongy bread that’s made from teff flour — and it’s delicious.

It feels so good to the touch that I wouldn’t think twice if given the opportunity to wear a shirt or pants that were made out of injera for a day. I don’t know why in hell that situation would ever arise, but I’d be on board. It’s a very comfortable bread.

It’s also your eating utensil.

Everything is served communal eating style and you just tear off a swath of injera and start pinching up bites from all the different small heaps on the platter.

Not only is it all you can eat, which for two people that are very very hungry might be just over one full platter, but it’s because you get to taste everything there is to offer too — and you won’t want to miss out on any of the flavors.

The platter is served with each dish portioned out in small heaps over soft and perfect injera bread, with more soft and perfect injera bread served on the side.

You go from the spicy red berbere lentils (Yemisir Kik Wat) to stewed potatoes and carrots that are so soft they almost dissolve in yr mouth like candy (mixed vegetables), then from the fresh lemony salad in the middle (Timatim Salata) to clean out yr mouth to the savory and bright spiced yellow split peas (Kik Alecha), then from the diced onion-garlic stewed collard greens (Gomen) to the cold brown lentils that are seasoned with what tastes like a little dill weed and mustard seed (Defen Yemisir Alecha), and finish off with a dish of buttery-tasting cabbage that is so well cooked you could drink it (Tekil Gomen).

Then you do it all over again.

And then again until the platter’s gone.

Then, after the platter’s been cleared away, you’re brought out another round of steaming hot towels to wash up with while you sigh the sort of long sigh that you sigh when you miss something already that’s only just left a moment ago.

It is, in its own way, a meditation on lentils.

xoxo ya lentilheads,

J