Two cups. That should do it, I thought.

I’m in the kitchen, measuring out two scoops of yellow lentils. I pour them into a bowl and place them under a centimeter of water. They’ll soak all afternoon.

“Think that’ll be enough?” my partner asks. She’s smirking. Wants to plant a seed of doubt.

I sneer. “Yeah. You think I’m gonna be the one Bengali in the universe who can’t make dal?”

Over the next few hours, I discover I am that Bengali.