Start with the lentils. Not any lentils. French green lentils, the small slate-colored ones that hold their shape and taste of the earth they grew in. Regular lentils will not do here. They fall apart. These stay whole, each one a little capsule of nuttiness.

The secret to this dish is temperature. You dress the lentils while they are warm, straight from the pot, when they are most willing to absorb flavor. Cold lentils sit there, closed off. Warm lentils drink in the vinaigrette like the soil drinks rain. This is not a detail. It is the whole point.

The greens come from whatever looks most alive at the market. Arugula brings pepperiness. Spinach offers sweetness. Watercress adds a mustardy bite. Take what is fresh, what was picked that morning if you can find it. The warmth of the lentils wilts the greens just enough to soften their edges without killing their spirit.

Every meal is a meaningful choice. A pot of lentils, a handful of greens, a good vinaigrette. This is how we eat well without complication. This is dinner.