Mom’s Dal

By NINA McCONIGLEY

From the kitchen of Nirmala Swamidoss McConigley
Handed down to her daughter, Nina McConigley

Dal
1 cup of red lentils (washed well)
3–4 cups water
2 tbsp oil
1 onion
6–7 cloves garlic (cut in two)
1/4 tsp asafetida (sometimes called hing), you get this at Indian stores
1/4 tsp turmeric
Jalapeño
1 tomato (add at the end)
Salt to taste
Fresh cilantro for garnish

Bring all ingredients (except tomato) to a boil, then lower heat to medium.
Let cook for about 20 minutes. You may need to stir or even add a little more
water if it looks thick.

Seasoning
After 20 minutes, or when lentils are soft, add seasoning:

In a small separate pan, heat 2 tbsps oil.

When oil is hot, add:

1/2 tsp black mustard seed
1 tsp of urad dal (white lentils)
1/2 tsp cumin

Brown these three things—you’ll hear the mustard seed start to crack,
and the white lentils will brown nicely. Be careful not to burn them (this is
easy) as the white lentils will become really hard if overcooked.

Add to dal. Then add 1 tsp curry powder and 1 tsp salt (or to taste) to the dal.

Add tomato and cilantro as a garnish. You can also cook this with any other
veggies in the dal—cut up eggplant, beans, etc.

Another nice thing to add is 1–2 tsp of sambar powder, which you can get
at any Indian grocery store. It adds nice flavor!

Nina McConigley was born in Singapore and grew up in Wyoming. She is the author of the story collection Cowboys and East Indians, winner of the PEN Open Book Award. She teaches at the University of Wyoming.

[Purchase your copy of Issue 09 here.]

Mom’s Dal

Related Posts

A coffee shop at sunset. The foreground is focused on a cappuccino; the background is blurred out of focus. People sit and talk.

I Am, I Said

DAVID MEISCHEN
Shorts, standard walking shoes. He looked like someone I might meet hiking the Shoal Creek Trail. And not give a second thought. But the glance had happened; the silent exchange had happened. The unspoken had changed me, changed him. I could see what was not visible.

Truck on the highway

Lightning Talk on I-90

ALI SHAPIRO
I was somewhere outside Rome when I saw the grief truck. Seriously? I said aloud, incredulous, to no one. Incredulous, and a little giddy: I couldn’t help but be delighted by signs, even bad ones; I wanted, more than any particular message, evidence of any message at all.

Summer People

BETH BOYLE MACHLAN
I wanted so badly to see that house, those dunes, the cold, deep water as our natural habitat instead of what I always kind of knew it was: a brief, bright accident of place and time and money, one that left me imprinted for life on a species to which I didn’t belong.