Under Pressure

Before I moved, I used to show you my lunch all the time. I chronicled the ups and the downs, the highs and lows, the tos and fros, and all other prepositions hither and yon, of my afternoon delights. Showing you my lunch brought me a joy unparalleled by nothing else on heaven or earth (or even in hell, which I am bound by law and a secret code not to get into right now). I stopped doing it regularly for a while, but vowed (silently, to myself, in moments of great solemnity) that after I moved, I would resume sharing my lunch.
Well, the world is a crazy place. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want. And sometimes there’s nothing we can do about it. Such was the case with me and my lunches. Without going into the whole lurid drama (I’m finally getting over it now, three weeks after my move, and my team of doctors tells me I will only get better if I do not “dwell”), I will just say this: Taking public photos of food is forbidden on the Upper West Side.
What was I to do? I had my livelihood to consider and you to accommodate. I could not let either down. So I decided this morning, after careful deliberation and consultation with the aforementioned team of doctors, to take drastic measures and make my own lunch and then privately photograph it. Here is the fruit of my desperation:

Armenian Red Lentil Soup With Apricots
Note:  Rogue lemon seed at approximately “9:00”

As you can see for yourselves, this delightful potage, born in a glorious Kuhn Rikon pressure cooker, was nothing short of a raging success! I even tested it out on an authentic Armenian, who was not only bowled over by my efforts, but quick to confirm that it was absolutely delicious and worth the aggravation heaped upon my shoulders by an oppressive Upper West Side regime.
Next up: Split Pea!