I challenged Chef Keller's lentil recipe to a lentil-off...and won!

Tasty, easy French lentils, Jen Gunter style.

I’m on a quest to eat more lentils. There are a variety of reasons behind my pursuit of pulses (the dried seeds of legumes, which includes lentils, chickpeas, peas, and beans). They are nutritious, affordable, and there are many environmental factors that make farming lentils better for the climate (you can read about some of those here). 

I’ve been dabbling in lentil recipes for a while, and along the way have made some truly lovely dishes with split red lentils (who doesn’t love a good dal?). But I had trouble branching out of the red lentil category, until 2020 when I had a dish that affected my perception of lentils forever, and I have been chasing that taste ever since. I was in France, right before the pandemic started, and had a dish of simple French lentils with a poached egg at a lovely restaurant on Île Saint-Louis called Les Fous de l’île. Oh, the flavors. The bite of the lentils with the golden glory of a perfectly poached yolk. Simple. Amazing. And the lentils were a bold co-star!  

When I returned home I tried making French lentils several times, but the results were awful.

Then in the fall of 2020, when we were in one of those troughs between viral waves, my partner and I headed for a weekend of biking in Napa. We did not feel comfortable dining inside, so we ordered take out from Bouchon, one of Chef Thomas Keller’s restaurants. I spied lentils on the menu! Another chance to perhaps partake in lentil glory. They were very similar to ones I’d had in France, but this time served with salmon. And ohhhhhhh, they were so good. I didn’t stop talking about them for days. 

How could lentils taste this good?

My mind was made up. I would conquer French lentils. 

I promptly ordered Chef Keller’s Bouchon cookbook. It’s the size of a coffee table art book, but hey, lentils! I kept my eye on the prize. I would happily lug that thing around the kitchen for lentil glory.

When I reached the page that I thought would be my map to lentil nirvana, my hope deflated a little. Garlic confit? I mean, not insurmountable, but I only have so much time. Preparing days ahead of a meal isn’t something I can typically incorporate into my regular rotation, but maybe. And then as I read further, I almost started to cry. I would also need bacon AND the water in which I had previously boiled sausages. 

Look, if I were stranded on a desert island and could only take one food, I’d pick bacon fat because with that I could make any rodent or plant palatable. But besides the obvious bacon fat flavor advantage, one of the driving reasons for me eating lentils was to cut back on saturated fat while making the world a better place. I’m also not going to have sausage water on hand. Like every time I make lentils, I have to have sausages?

And then there was the added challenge of my partner not eating pork. 

Did I fold?

No. I threw down the fucking lentil gauntlet. I said, “Ha, Chef Thomas Keller, owner of the greatest restaurant in the world, you might need bacon fat and sausage water and garlic confit to make French lentils taste divine, but I will find another way!”

Over the past 18 months, I’ve made batch after batch of French lentils. Each one was dutifully tasted by my amazing partner, who has spent a lot of time eating French lentils prepared by a French person, so he was able to make many excellent suggestions. Tweaks here and there until finally…FRENCH LENTIL PERFECTION. To make sure I had the recipe correct and easy to follow, my partner has made them several times himself. 

But before I declared victory in my Chef Thomas Keller lentil-off (a competition of which he is still unaware as it occurs mainly in my own head), I wanted to know, no I needed to know if my lentils were really as good as I thought? Did I indeed beat Chef Keller’s recipe, or have I completely forgotten his lentil glory and mine are but a crude, pale, tragic imitation?

So a few weeks ago I made my French lentils on a Friday night and then the next day we took our triple vaccinated selves to Bouchon for lunch, where I ordered the salmon and lentils. 

I knew with the first bite that I had achieved the impossible, but I kept a straight face. I did not want to inject bias. 

My partner took a fork full, understanding they likely had pork products, but he was long past committed to my pursuit of lentil nirvana. I knew he would not spare my feelings, and if like Dr. Frankenstein I was blinded by the love for my own creation, that he would be gentle with constructive criticism. 

I waited…

“We’re done,” he said. “Yours are better.”

Victory was mine. 

And so I present to you, French Lentil Nirvana. They are delicious with salmon or chicken. Wonderful as a stand alone. Next level with a poached egg. And they hold up well to reheating the next day.

French Lentil Nirvana, 4 servings. 

Ingredients:

• 2 tbsp unsalted butter

• 4 tbsp olive oil (you will divide this into two, so don’t use it all at once)

• 1 cup French green lentils (see notes at the bottom about lentil choices)

• 2 medium carrots, diced

• 1 yellow onion, diced

• 2 cloves of garlic, minced.

• 2 bay leaves

• 4 sprigs of thyme

• 1 tsp salt

• 1 tbsp good quality balsamic vinegar (see notes below)

• 1 tbsp Dijon mustard (Trader Joe’s is the best flavor for price hands down, my partner has devoted a large percentage of his life to identifying the best, readily available Dijon mustard. Trust him). 

• 3 cups chicken stock

Assembly:

• Heat a heavy pan on medium heat on the stove top. I use my Le Creuset. 

• Add 2 tbsp oil and 2 tbsp butter.

• When the butter has melted, add the diced onion and carrots and cook until the onion turns translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir regularly. 

• While the onion and carrots are cooking, mince the garlic. 

• Around the 8 minute mark with the onion/carrots, add the garlic and cook for 1-2 minutes. Keep stirring regularly.

• Add the lentils. Give them a stir so they get mixed in well with the onion/carrots and coated in the yummy oil/butter goodness that still remains in the pan. 

• Add 1 tsp salt, 3 cups chicken stock, 2 bay leaves, and 4 sprigs of thyme and turn down the heat and simmer for 25-30 minutes. The length of time and the amount of liquid might vary a bit depending on your lentils. I check at 25 minutes and see how much liquid is left so I can adjust accordingly. The end result should not be mushy, you want the lentils to have a “bite” (I have no idea how else to describe it). The French green lentils do seem to take exactly 30 minutes, but if yours take longer that’s okay too.

• Fish out the bay leaves and any woody parts of the thyme that remain. 

• Thoroughly mix 1 tbsp Dijon mustard and 1 tbsp balsamic in a small bowl, then stir in the remaining 2 tbsp of olive oil. Add this vinaigrette to the lentils and mix well..

• Turn off the heat, serve and enjoy!

I’m aware my poached eggs aren’t the prettiest, but the yolk is creamy perfection. 

Per serving (approximately)

• 304 calories

• 4.7 grams saturated fat

• 13.4 g protein

• 8.5 g fiber

Who knows if I made a garlic confit if these lentils would even be better? But my idea of an ideal recipe inhabits the center of a Venn diagram, where the circles are flavor, nutrition, and ease of preparation. You gotta actually live too, ya know?

Trader Joe’s has green lentils, but they are not French lentils. They taste great and work well here if you can’t get the French ones, but they get a little mushy, so it's hard to get that same nice “bite.” To replicate this exactly you want the little green French ones (in the left of the photos). The best are apparently Le Puy, but I have no idea if that is what they are selling at my little market.  

And finally, the balsamic vinegar. Enzo is amazing and it is so sweet, it’s ridiculous. I have used both the traditional and the fig and they are both lovely, but Trader Joes balsamic is pretty good as well and is easier to find. 

The French have been making French lentils for centuries, so I am sure what I am offering isn’t especially original. But honestly, these lentils are really good and if you are trying to expand your lentil repertoire while making the world a better place, I hope you give them a try. You can swap out the butter for olive oil and replace the chicken stock with vegetable stock if you are vegan. They don’t have quite that same buttery taste, but are still quite good. 

And Chef Keller, thank you for the inspiration…until next time.