Lentil Soup (1885)

Hey there, friends. 

I’m learning so much from this project. Today’s lesson: don’t describe a recipe until you make it. 

When I told you this lentil soup recipe was coming, I called it “hearty”. When I think of lentil soup, “hearty” is the word that comes to mind. I think of my neighbor’s famous lentil soup that called for half a cup of butter and every vegetable in the fridge. That was a hearty lentil soup. 

This one…this is the lentil soup you make to warm six cold pairs of hands, to fill six hungry bellies, and to bring six tired hearts together around a loving table at the end of a day. This is the lentil soup recipe written for the mothers of New York City in 1885…the ones who had ten cents to spend on dinner, and not a penny more. 

This isn’t a soup you tuck into with a big spoon, it’s a soup that you want to pick up and sip from the edge of your bowl, grateful for the bulk of those dry or toasted bread bits in the bottom, when you get to them.

Amazing how a bowl of soup can make everything I’ve read about city life during the industrial revolution a little more tangible. 

I’m feeling a little extra grateful today…for my warm house and full pantry, and for all of you out there reading along and partaking in this project. Thank you for doing this with me. 

~ Anna

LENTIL SOUP

“For two quarts of soup half a pint of yellow lentils, (cost five cents,) washed, and put to boil in three pints of cold water, with one cents’ worth of soup greens, and boiled gently until the lentils are soft enough to break between the fingers; every half hour a gill of cold water should be added, and the lentils again raised to a boiling point, until they are done; they should then be passed through a sieve with a wooden spoon, using enough of the liquor to make them pass easy, and mixed with the rest of the soup; it should be seasoned with salt and pepper, and is then ready to simmer for half an hour, and serve hot, with dice of fried bread half an inch squre, like those used for pea soup, or with bits of stale bread. A plentiful dinner of lentil soup and bread costs only about ten cents.”
​

Twenty-Five Cent Dinners for Families of Six, 1885

Here’s a photo of the recipe as it appears in the cookbook:

A FEW COOKING NOTES:

Soup Greens.

I relied on quite a few bits of context, scattered throughout this little cookbook, when I was making this recipe. It feels straightforward, until you find yourself wondering “What were soup greens in 1885, and how much of them could you buy for a penny?” Not finding concrete guidance on this, even in the marketing section of the book, I ended up going with the belief that these were “lesser greens” and used about a cup of mixed celery, onion, and leek tops.

How does this add up to two quarts? ​

Unlike the pea soup recipe we made a few weeks ago, this recipe doesn’t start out with extra water and boil down to two quarts. It starts out with less than two quarts of ingredients, and simmers down to less than that (even with the addition of those gills of water), as the lentils cook. So that extra liquid to make the final “two quarts of soup” has to come from somewhere. 

From the context, I believe the author (Juliet Corson) means this to be broth. On page 31, she writes “For instance, the pot-liquor in which meat has been boiled needs only the addition of a few dumplings or cereals, and seasoning, to form a perfect nutriment.” I think that’s what she’s doing with this recipe…preparing the cereals and seasoning to addto broth for that “perfect nutriment”. I used venison broth for making this, but any broth would work well. On page 32, she gives a recommendation for always having broth available, by keeping a “pot on the back of the stove to receive all the clean scraps of meat, bones, and remains of poultry and game, which are found in every kitchen…”

What kind of lentils to use. ​

This, at least, should be easy, right? She specifies “yellow”. And yet…later in the book where she talks about lentils, she only refers to two types- “small flat brown”, and “larger, about the size of peas, and of a greenish color”. So for this recipe, I do not believe she was talking about the very bright yellow lentils we sometimes find available today, but instead I went with the common “small flat brown”, that she describes. It’s comforting that she goes on to say that “both types are equally well flavored and nutritious”, and I think that using what you have at hand fits the approach of this cookbook, so would certainly encourage you to try this recipe with whatever type you have available.

How much is a gill?

A gill would have been right about half a modern cup, or 4 ounces.

How much bread could you buy with the remaining 4 cents?

About ⅔ of a loaf. Elsewhere in the book she refers to a store-bought loaf of bread as costing six cents. If using homemade bread, that would go a little further.

---

This is one of those recipes that would wonderful to make with kids, as part of a homeschool unit on the industrial revolution. Nothing brings home history, like tasting it!

I also love what an invitation to gratitude this recipe offers. I may not make this recipe again for dinner, but of all the meals I’ve made throughout this 1800’s cook book project, this is truly one of those that’s stuck with me the most.

As always, feel free to send me an email anytime, with recipe requests. Getting emails from y’all is such a joyful part of what I do, and they’re always welcome.  ‘Til next time, ~ Anna

This post was originally published in the 1800’s Housewife newsletter. Not on the mailing list? You can join here to receive full recipes with cooking notes straight to your inbox!

If you liked this recipe, here are some others you may enjoy: