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I Want Winter to go Away Lentil and Tomato Soup

It’s winter. It’s cold and dark outside, quite miserable really, with occasional heavy winds. To cheer yourself up and make yourself feel warm you’ve got two options: 1. start heavily drinking or: 2.have some soup. I know what you are thinking – first option seems somehow very, very tempting. But think about your liver. Think about all the money it would cost you. Soup is so much cheaper.

So here you go. A recipe for a nice, warming soup. It’s nothing like a glass of wine but trust me, it does the trick.

lentil and tomato sopu


1 parsnip

2 carrots

3-4 potatoes

1 leek

can of chopped tomatoes

cup of red lentils

pinch of cayenne pepper


basil, oregano, thyme, bay leaf

1 spoon of olive oil

knob of butter


1. Boil 1.5 litres of water.

2. Peel, wash and dice parsnip, carrot and potatoes, add to boiling water.

3. Add salt, olive oil and lentils. Cover and simmer till vegetables and lentils are soft.

4. Using blender turn everything into a creamy soup but don’t go crazy, it’s nice to have chunks here and there.

5. Heat up your soup, add chopped tomatoes and simmer for a while. Add herbs and cayenne pepper. At the end add a knob of butter. Serve with some nice bread.







About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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