Dal is the ultimate comfort food

One of my favorite Hindi terms is “ghar ka khaana.” It literally means “home food,” but it also encompasses the singular joy and unfussiness of meals made in your own kitchen— the dishes that remind you of childhood, the ones you won’t often find in restaurants.

My quintessential ghar ka khaana? Dal.

To make dal feels like an alchemical feat, watching the pebbly lentils turn creamy, starchy and golden with turmeric. I love the sizzle of the hot, spiced ghee when it is poured into the lentils, the way that dal envelops a bowl of rice like a hug. The first time I published my mother’s recipes for dal in my cookbook, “Indian-ish,” it felt as if I was letting people in on a secret— a solution to their weeknight dinner woes, courtesy of my ancestors.

Across South Asia and its diaspora, dal— which refers to both the legumes and the finished dish, is inherently linked to comfort, whether simmered with coconut milk, sweetened with a little jaggery or topped with crisp curry leaves.

In interviews, many people said it was the first food they fed to their children. The meal they missed most when they went off to college. The dish they break Ramadan fasts with. The first thing they learned to cook from their mother, who insisted on providing preparation times in whistles of a pressure cooker rather than minutes.

“Almost all of us have positive associations with dal because we grew up being fed dal,” said Sarah Thankam Matthews, an Indian American novelist living in the New York City borough of Brooklyn. “Part of it is the emotional association of being fed something, and then there is the essential nature of what it is as a dish: warm, goopy and nourishing.”

Aisha Saeed, the Pakistani American author of the children’s book Bilal Cooks Daal, said that during her college days, dal was “my version of ramen” — cheap, filling and hard to mess up.

Saeed, who lives in Atlanta, didn’t realize just how widely beloved dal was until she published her book in 2019 and received hundreds of notes from students and parents who were overjoyed to see their childhood dish memorialized in literature.

The recipe for dal is endlessly flexible. Mo Sherifdeen, a travel marketer in Portland, Oregon, who is Sri Lankan American, has added ketchup to his to temper the spiciness. I’ve added sliced garlic to mine, or let the lentils thicken to the texture of refried beans and stuffed them in a tortilla. But it’s my mother’s simplest, 15-minute version— which requires just masoor dal (red lentils), turmeric, ghee, cumin seeds, asafetida and chile powder— that I find the most satisfying.

The method may vary, but the emotions it evokes are the same.

“When I am sad or when I am crying or when I am upset, I will have a bowl of dal and rice,” said Nithya Ruff, an Indian American technology executive in Raleigh, North Carolina. “You can train the palate at childhood, and that is what you associate with comfort. Anything you pick up after you grow up— it never takes that same status.”

Throughout my childhood, our family traveled often because of my mother’s job in the airline business. No matter where we were— and no matter how much we loved the food there— my father would eventually crave dal. Toward the end of the vacation, he’d retrieve the packets of instant dal in his suitcase, boil water in our hotel room and make himself a bowl.

I used to make fun of him. But now I’ve adopted a similar ritual for each time I return from a trip. Before I even unpack, I simmer lentils and make rice. And as I take my first bite, the thought is always the same: Was there ever anything as delicious as dal?

Recipe: Everyday Dal

The warming, soothing and downright healing effects of dal are well known throughout South Asia and its diaspora. This is an everyday dish for a good reason: It’s simple to make but tastes complex, and the flavor only deepens over time. There are countless ways to make dal; this version requires just 10 minutes and five ingredients (not including salt), all serving important purposes: The lentils cook quickly, the turmeric lends an earthy wholesomeness and the rich chhonk, or tempering, made by sizzling spices with ghee, brings instant depth.

To gussy it up, try adding a packet of frozen spinach, or stirring minced garlic into the chhonk. If you’re tempted to use ground cumin instead of cumin seeds, resist! The seeds have a distinctly smokier flavor and add a pleasant texture to the dal.

Yield: 4 servings

Total time: 15 minutes

Ingredients:

1 cup red lentils (also known as red split lentils or masoor dal)

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Salt

3 tablespoons ghee

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon ground red chile

1/8 teaspoon asafetida (optional but extremely good, see Tip)

Rice or roti, for serving

Preparation:

1. Combine the lentils (no need to rinse them) with the turmeric, 1 teaspoon salt and 3 cups of water in a medium saucepan. If you like your dal a little soupier, add an extra cup of water here. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to a simmer, cover and cook for 5 to 8 minutes, until the lentils resemble a loose porridge. If the lentils are too thick, add a little hot water.

2. In a small pan or pot, melt the ghee over medium heat and add the cumin seeds. Let them cook until they are aromatic and a darker shade of brown, about 1 minute. Stir in the red chile powder and asafetida, let them toast for a few seconds until fragrant (the asafoetida will give off a garlic-esque scent), then remove from the heat.

3. Taste the lentils and add more salt if desired. Pour the hot ghee over the lentils— you can either stir to combine or leave it be, for a dramatic presentation— and serve with rice or roti.

Tip:

Asafoetida is a tree resin used commonly as a seasoning in South Asian cuisines. It has a wonderfully potent, sort of allium-esque flavor that adds depth to many dishes. It can be ordered online or found in South Asian grocery stores, and it is worth going out of your way to purchase— it really makes this dish sing. An imperfect but somewhat suitable substitute is garlic powder.