Let’s Talk About This Savory Lentil Breakfast Bowl (And Why I Make It More Than I Should)

If you’ve ever dragged yourself out of bed thinking only of coffee and, well, maybe something more exciting than toast, you and I are on the same wavelength. See, I used to roll my eyes at the idea of lentils for breakfast—let alone anything with the word “bowl” (hipster much?). But, one grey Tuesday, I was out of eggs, had a lone carrot rolling around in the crisper, and a sack of lentils mocking me from the cupboard. After a little kitchen shuffle (and some accidental cumin overload), I landed on the breakfast bowl that’s become my secret weapon on those mornings when I want to feel a bit more put-together but still want to eat in pyjamas.

Why You’ll Love This… Or Why I Do, Anyway

I make this when the weather is dodgy or when my family has gotten bored of the same old porridge (which happens more than I’d like to admit). It’s hearty, you feel like you’ve accomplished something before 9 a.m., and—no kidding—even my brother who claims to hate lentils will eat at least half a bowl, as long as I distract him with a hefty spoonful of garlic yogurt. Also, I always have the base stuff lying around. Oh! And if you’re trying to get more veggies or fiber (my digestive system thanks me every time, not to get TMI), this bowl is a sneaky way to do it.

What You’ll Need (And Swaps I Do When I’ve Forgotten Stuff)

3/4 cup dry brown or green lentils (red lentils cook quicker but get mushy; I sometimes use those when I just want to eat already)
2 cups veggie broth (or water plus the shadow of a bouillon cube… you know what I mean)
1 tablespoon olive oil (or whatever oil is closest; my gran swore by sunflower oil, not that it matters much)
Half a yellow onion, chopped
1 or 2 cloves garlic, minced—more if you want to keep vampires or talkative coworkers at bay
1 carrot, grated or finely chopped (I’ve used sweet potato in a pinch; it was surprisingly great, though a bit sweet)
1 handful baby spinach or kale (frozen greens work in winter, too; I’ve even used leftover roasted broccoli, not bad)
1/2 teaspoon cumin (optional but recommended—just don’t do what I did and dump in a tablespoon by accident)
Salt and pepper, to taste (which, let’s be real, is more salt than is probably advised)
To serve: Greek yogurt, a fried or poached egg, fresh herbs (parsley or cilantro if they’re not half-dead in my fridge)

Here’s How I Make It (In My Usual Scatterbrained Way)

First off, rinse your lentils. Unless you like the idea of eating field dust. Pop them in a sieve and just swish under the tap.
In your favorite small pot or saucepan (I, for some reason, always use the one with the wobbly handle), heat up your oil over medium. Chuck in the onion and carrot and a pinch of salt. Give it 3–5 minutes until it’s soft and smelling kind of sweet (or until you remember you forgot the garlic).
Add in the garlic and cumin. Stir for a minute—this is where I usually sneak a taste or two. If it smells awesome, you’re on the right track. If it starts to stick, just splash a bit of broth in.
Time for the lentils and broth (or water plus whatever stock-cube situation you’ve got). Bring it all to a gentle simmer, then cover—mostly. Cook for about 18 to 20 minutes, stirring now and then so it doesn’t weld itself to the bottom. If you’re using red lentils, they go a bit quicker, so check at 12–15 mins. Don’t worry if it looks a bit like soup at this stage—it thickens up as it cools.
Once the lentils are tender but not falling apart, toss in your greens. Give everything a good stir and let the heat wilt the spinach (if you’re using kale, it might need a minute or two longer to soften). Season with salt and pepper—maybe splash in a little lemon juice if you want to get fancy.
Final assembly: Scoop it into bowls, top with a spoonful of yogurt (or a fried egg if you’re feeling flash), and sprinkle with herbs or even a dash of hot sauce. I’m not your mum, do what feels right.

What I’ve Learned (the Hard Way) Making This

Don’t skip rinsing lentils, or everything tastes odd. Trust me, I did it once. Never again.
If you use older lentils (like, the packet you found at the back of the cupboard during a lockdown), they might take longer. Just be patient or make more coffee.
Some days, I want it soupier; a splash more broth does the trick. Go with the flow here.

Trying Out Variations (Some Hits, Some Misses!)

I’ve swapped in sweet potato for the carrot (like I said, surprisingly tasty, almost like breakfast dessert); also, I once tried crumbling feta on top, and wow, I think that’s my new favourite. Tried adding tomatoes—ended up a bit too acid for my taste, but maybe you’ll like it. I did try stirring in a spoon of curry paste once; honestly, it was a mistake, tasted like the bowl couldn’t make up its mind.

My Gear (And How to Wing It Without the Fancy Stuff)

I usually make this in a basic saucepan with a lid (if you don’t have a lid, I’ve used a plate. Just be careful taking it off!). Wooden spoon for stirring. If you don’t have a cheese grater for the carrot, just dice it up fine or even bash it with the back of a knife—no judgment from me.

Storing the Leftovers (If There Are Any)

This keeps in the fridge, in a sealed container, for up to 2 days—but, to be honest, it rarely makes it to day two in my house. I swear it gets better the next morning, cold from the fridge with a dash more lemon. Reheat with a splash of water in the microwave or on the hob (stove?), or just eat it cold if you’re in a rush.

How I Like to Serve It (Family Opinions Optional)

I almost always top mine with yogurt and a soft egg, or if I’m in the mood, a quick pickled onion from Smitten Kitchen (their pickling trick saves my sandwiches all year). My partner likes a bit of sriracha, and my niece piles on croutons—wild, but somehow it works. Occasionally, when I can be bothered, I make some homemade flatbread… but a slice of toast does just fine.

Pro Tips (Learned the Awkward Way)

Don’t rush the simmering. I did once, thinking I could multitask. The lentils were crunchy and not in a good way. Just not worth it.
If you actually taste as you go, you won’t end up with bland or weirdly over-spiced bowls. Lesson learned the hard way when my friend came over and barely touched their bowl.
Lemon at the end makes everything taste brighter, but go easy—it can steal the show if you dump in too much.

FAQ—Answering Real (and Slightly Silly) Questions

Can I use canned lentils? Yeah, why not? Just skip the simmering, drain them well, and add them in with the broth for a few minutes to warm through. You’ll shave a good 15 minutes off.
Is this vegan? Totally—just lose the yogurt and egg, or swap with coconut yogurt and avocado. Actually, Kite Hill makes a decent plant-based yogurt if you’re in the States (Kite Hill).
Why does mine never thicken? Could be you used too much water, or maybe your lentils are on the young side. Just simmer it a bit longer, or on second thought, serve it as a stew. ‘Bowl’ can mean what you want!
Can I freeze this? You can, but the greens turn a bit sad after thawing. It’s okay, though. I do it sometimes when I make a double batch.
What can I add on top? Anything goes. I like toasted seeds, leftover veggies—one time I tried roasted pumpkin seeds, which was a bit posh, but tasty.
Will my kids eat this? Umm, maybe? Mine won’t, unless I call it a “breakfast stew” and let them eat with toast soldiers. Cheeky but effective.

One last thought: if you give this a try, let me know how yours turned out, or just send me your favourite lentil hack. Or don’t—just enjoy your breakfast. That’s plenty.

Savory Lentil Breakfast Bowl