red lentil and winter squash stew; cable woes

We live off campus now in our very own apartment. It's a not-fancy one bedroom just a mile down the road from Ross, and in the week Leah lived here before I came down, she made everything gleaming and spotless and homey. We didn't realize that the kitchen cabinets and counters were not, in fact, beige - some bleach and Leah's elbow grease revealed that they're actually sparkly white! We brought some of our own things from home, too, like rugs and curtains and framed pictures, to make it feel more like ours. And it does! It is bright and breezy and it feels really good in here.  Our apartment is part of an old, somewhat dilapidated, budget vacation rental situation. The owners live on the property and rent out the six still-intact units to Ross students (the other six units, upon snooping and pressing our noses to the dusty windows, seem to be in a state of suspended renovation).  The owners are an older couple. The wife, Ruth, is British, and must be around 70; she hobbles a bit because of constant sciatic nerve pain and bad hips. Her husband, Wilfred, is Kittitian and he seems older than her, but pretty spry, still. I think they obtain most of their income from operating a horseback riding business (in the morning, if we're lucky and they've booked riding tours, we see about a half dozen horse butts out of our bedroom window). They offer riding on the beach and in the rainforest, I think mostly to cruise passengers on pre-booked excursions. I know when they have riders coming, though - Ruth's shrill voice calls constantly to Poppy, a younger but still not very young guy who is their maintenance man and riding guide: "Poppy! Poppy, have you saddled the horses yet?" "Poppy? Poppy! Put your shirt on, they're going to be here soon" "Poppy! Poppy, please put your shirt on!" It sounds very tense and exciting, like the moment before company comes and your mother yells at you to do some last-minute thing. And then the riders arrive and everyone is quieter and very friendly, and Poppy is introduced and off they go, into the mountain. Leah and I are going to book a tour someday soon, because she's never been on a horse ("I'm Jewish", she explains).

It's my job to set up the utilities, because Leah's at class all day and I can't claim to have much better to do. We're still working on getting the voice-over-internet phone so that we can make cheaper calls home, and also so that people can call us, but the cable company (which is called, by the way, "The Cable" - that's the name of the company, for real) has been, erm, challenging.  Waiting for a cable guy is an annoyance in any country, surely. I usually feel trapped in my apartment, afraid to go to the bathroom in case I don't hear the buzzer, and the dude inevitably shows up five minutes before the end of his six hour time window. But trying to get the internet and phone installed in St. Kitts has been mind-blowingly frustrating - like the level of awful service is so unbelievable that it makes me want to blow my brains out.  Today marks the third day of my waiting for the very specific "before the afternoon" scheduled installation, and the third day I called to ask, "Um, is the technician coming today?" The phone calls haven't been easy, either.  I've waited on hold for hours now, eating up the pre-paid minutes on my little cell phone - calling land lines from a cell is very expensive - getting hung up on, transferred to lines that just ring and ring, listening to the same song over and over (a rip-off of Time Warner's "triple play" rap from a few years ago which segues into a praising Jesus gospelly number). And every day, including today, someone tells me that they don't have me scheduled, we'll have to do it on ______ (the next business day).  I confirm; for example: "Okay, so you lost my order again. You are going to be here to install the phone tomorrow in the morning, yes? Mmmhmm, tomorrow, Tuesday, hopefully before noon. Great, see you tomorrow before noon!" No one has offered even the courtesy apology, a head tilted to the side slow shake, an insincere, "so sorry", whatever.  I am trying my darndest to be more laid back or feel less freakin' entitled. It's hard. Really, I just want to be able to call my sister, and going a week without talking to her about every single thing has just been weird.  Being able to leave the apartment, while it is lovely, would probably feel pretty good, too.

In my time waiting for the cable guy these past few days, I've made a bunch of foods for the week: many soups and stews from homemade chicken and vegetable stocks, daal and curries and vegetables roasted and steamed and slawed. One of my favorite one-pot recipes is a hearty red lentil and chickpea dish with cubed butternut squash. It's great for winter, for all of you who are fuh-reezing cold right now. The weather here has been cooler, too, with temperatures dipping into the 70s, even!

Here's that recipe:

Winter Squash and Red Lentil Stew

1 tablespoon olive oil
3 medium carrots, sliced 1/2 inch thick
1 cup chopped onion (1 large)
1 green chile pepper, minced
1 pound pumpkin or winter squash, peeled (or not), seeded, and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 15-ounce can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), rinsed and drained
1 cup red lentils, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/4 cup chopped peanuts (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro


In a large Dutch oven or soup pot, heat oil over moderately-high heat. Add onions and carrots and chile and cook until beginning to soften. Stir in broth, winter squash, lentils, chickpeas, tomato paste, ginger, cumin, salt, turmeric, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until squash is tender and lentils are beginning to fall apart, about 15 minutes. Stir in lime juice, and ladle into bowls, topped with cilantro and peanuts.

*ps - sorry, no pictures for right now, but I'll have some up soon!