Simple breakfast lentils: For one, easily doubled

Half a can of organic brown lentils
a teaspoon of coarse grey sea salt
a teaspoon of dry rosemary
a swirl of walnut oil ( or a bit of butter)

If you have a mortar and pestle, it will show its worth here. It will transform from a medieval looking, curious, useless paper-weight to a meal transformer in a moment.

I think I am more than normally particular about my lentils. I prefer the brown ones, for this. They must be organic vegetarian ones, rinsed thoroughly. Ignore this, and they will prove to smell like canned dog food left out on your back porch all afternoon---and inedible in this lifetime or the next. After I have rinsed them under cool running water, I let the resulting murky liquid drain into the sink. I hate waste---despise, actually. But I have found no use for this particular nonsense.

While they're draining, I turn to the mortar and pestle. I combine equal parts coarse sea salt and dried rosemary. Fresh would be adaptable, I am sure, but have not yet ventured. I am in mourning for the young rosemary pot; it was kicked over by brash neighbor children who also stepped in my spinach. Luckily the young spinach was still so tiny and elastically energetic that it bounced back in a few days. The rosemary was not so energetic. It clung, trembling, to the side of the gaping open pot. I did plant them early, and they can be restarted.

For a short explanation of my absence: My mother board died. This prompted a replacement of said motherboard, processor, and ram. If you've never put together your own "rig" (as we nerds affectionately call it), you're in for a treat. This was my first time doing much more than removing and re-inserting my video card. Or watching, bemused, as two good nerd friends were buried, arms'  deep in a PC case like some sort of butchery. It requires, in the words of one of the aforementioned nerds: "a blood sacrifice." To you, this means that the inside of your desktop is crammed together full of all sorts of pointy, stabby, and otherwise sharp corners and edges. And it is unyielding. After that, my ancient hard drives started deciding that they were either not recognizable, or used a file system which windows doesn't like. Either way, between that, final exam week at school, an exceedingly verbose house-guest, my boss leaving our store, our full timer being on military orders and general stress, I was demotivated.

But baby spinach plants, beside Sugar Daddy snow peas, and the tiniest of chards have started to bring me back. There is also this wonderful book which I've been devouring, called Heat. I believe Mr. Buford might be the only person to whom I would not have to explain my mostly vegetarian-ness (though he is certainly NOT one). At any rate, it is helping me to understand the levels to which food connects.

Anyhow, grind up the sea salt and the rosemary together. If you don't have a mortar and pestle...break up the rosemary with your fingers a bit and shake it together with the salt. Throw a generous sprinkling into the lentils, and mix them casually. You can reserve the rest of the salt for later. It has plenty of uses. I promise.  Drizzle a little bit of walnut oil or a dollop of butter on top. Microwave ( I know! Blasphemy!) for one minute and let stand briefly. You'll know why if you try to take a bite....Yes, it seems strange, but the truth is that the pan can dry out the lentils too quickly. You could use steam to heat them if you were cooking something else, I suppose...But this is breakfast we're talking about. By yourself. No one is looking, and it will be simple, and easy to clean up, and taste better than oatmeal. Or, as my inner voice calls it...goatmeal.