If you showed up at my house any day between October and April, there’s, like, a 90% chance you’d find me fiddling around with lentils. One time, I made this Herby Lentil & Burrata Salad instead of lasagna for a family get-together (don’t ask; my aunt still brings it up, but she always eats seconds).

I think of this salad as the food version of throwing on comfy joggers after a long day: familiar, a little fancy with the burrata, but still relaxed enough that no one expects you to light candles or talk quietly. Actually, my neighbour once called this a “posh salad” but then she took the leftovers home, so I’ll take that win.

Why You’ll Love This (or At Least Not Hate It)

I make this when I want something that feels both comforting and a bit special—maybe after a day that went slightly sideways. My partner claims he doesn’t like lentils (he does; he just pretends) but eats this anyway because, well, melty burrata. Kids? They mostly eat the bread I toast up alongside, but I count it as a win if they get a bit of lentil in ’em. Honestly, this is also my go-to when I can’t quite face endless chopping—herbs make everything look like you tried harder than you did. And if you’ve ever overcooked lentils (‘sup, me last winter), trust me, this salad actually hides it well.

Get These Ingredients (Or Whatever Works)

1 cup (around 200g) French green lentils (or those brown ones from the supermarket if you’re in a fix; canned works in an emergency)
Water (I don’t really measure, just cover plus another inch-ish)
1 small red onion, thinly sliced (spring onion is grand if you want gentler vibes)
1 big handful of fresh parsley, chopped (if cilantro is haunting your fridge, sneak it in)
2 tbsp fresh dill, chopped (my gran swears by tarragon, and it’s not half bad)
1 lemon (for juice and zest – yes, zest, trust me)
6 tbsp super good olive oil (budget stuff is fine, just up the lemon a little)
Salt + pepper (I am generous with the pepper; you do you)
1 ball of fresh burrata (mozzarella is a close cousin if your shop is out or your wallet says nope)
A squeeze of honey (optional but lovely. Maple syrup if you’re that way inclined)

How I Make This (Roughly Speaking)

Give the lentils a little rinse in a sieve (or skip if you’re as impatient as I am sometimes). Pop in a saucepan, add your water, a pinch of salt, and just bring to the boil. Lower to a gentle simmer and faff around the kitchen for about 18–25 mins. They should be soft with a bit of bite—don’t let them get mushy. If they do, shrug and carry on.
Drain ’em well. This is where I often burn my tongue having a way-too-hot “sample.” Toss into a bowl and let them cool to warm-ish—so the herbs don’t instantly wilt.
Add your onion, most of the chopped herbs (reserve a smidge for looking fancy at the end), lemon zest and juice, half the olive oil (actually, I’ve just sloshed it all in at once before and it turned out fine), salt, plenty of black pepper, and honey if you’re feeling wild.
Gently fold together. You want everything coated but don’t overmix or you’ll turn it all to mush (oops, been there).
Transfer to your serving platter or just go lazy and leave it in the mixing bowl (no judgement).
Carefully tear your burrata and place it on top. Drizzle the remaining oil over the cheese, then scatter over the reserved herbs.
This is honestly when my stomach starts growling. Eat warm or at room temp; up to you.

Little Notes From My Kitchen (& Occasional Chaos)

If you use canned lentils, rinse ’em well or your salad will taste a bit muddy (I learned this the hard way—blech).
Lemon zest is weirdly essential. Skipping it once just made the salad flat, so now I religiously zest away.
I’ve tossed in chopped roasted red peppers when I had them lurking in the fridge. Actually pretty good!
Herbs: don’t stress if you can’t find dill. More parsley and a pinch of mint works, too.

My Experiments (Some More Successful Than Others)

One time, I added roughly chopped toasted walnuts for crunch; everyone loved it (even the nut skeptics). Tried swapping the lentils for chickpeas once—bit of a miss. Maybe if you mash them, it’ll hold together better? Anyway, you could also use feta if burrata seems a bit too deluxe. Oh, and I did a wintery one last year with roasted carrots added—different, but kinda great. Actually, this epic carrot salad on Smitten Kitchen was my inspiration.

Gear I Use (But Don’t Panic if You Haven’t Got It)

Saucepan for the lentils (even a battered one works—the lentils don’t care)
Fine sieve or colander (if you don’t have one, I did try draining with the lid—messy but doable)
Zester, but a grater works in a pinch—just go easy
A proper salad bowl or serving plate—sometimes I use a big old pasta bowl and nobody minds

How to Store (If You Somehow Have Leftovers)

This keeps in the fridge in a container for up to two days, but honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! The herbs get a little less perky after a night, but the flavors somehow cozy in together nicely. The burrata gets a bit weird if mixed through and then stored, so I just plop on fresh cheese if I’m making ahead. If you’re prepping, the lentil base hangs out fine in the fridge for a few days, on its own.

Serving Ideas (My Favourites, Yours May Vary)

I love this with a good, crusty slab of sourdough—the kind that leaves crumbs all over the floor. My lot sometimes asks for it with a simple roast chicken on the side if we’re hungrier (or the classic, “is there meat?” question). Sometimes, I just pair it with a stupidly big glass of white wine and call it a night. And if you want to get posh, serve it as part of a picnic spread—the cheese stays cool and it’s easy to transport. Speaking of wine, Jancis Robinson’s wine tips helped me stop guessing what to pour. Worth a look if that’s your thing!

Pro Tips (Learned by Messing Up)

Don’t rush cooling the lentils—if they’re piping hot, the herbs just wilt in a sad, soggy way. I once tried skipping this because I was hangry. Regretted it.
Actually, don’t overdress the salad; it can get greasy. Start light, taste, then add more if needed (sounds boring, but it works).
I used to skip the honey until I realized a hint of sweetness tames the edge of all that lemon. Live and learn.

You Asked (And Actually, Someone Did Once!)

Can I make this vegan? Sure thing! Swap burrata for a vegan cheese or just leave it out, and maybe sprinkle with toasted seeds for good measure.
Which lentils do I really need? Honestly, anything but red will do. French green hold up best, but I’ve used plain brown ones loads of times. If you’re speed-cooking, tinned lentils are totally fine (just drain and rinse well, as above—otherwise, sad city).
Please tell me I don’t have to use dill? You definitely don’t—I like it, but too much and it takes over, so feel free to skip or swap as you like.
Can this feed a crowd? Yep, just scale up the lentils and herbs. Burrata can be plopped in little dollops, or use mozzarella torn up all over. Maybe double up on dressing, though.
Why the lemon zest? This one’s form experience—plain juice just never pops in quite the same way. Zest lifts the whole thing.
Does it really matter what olive oil I use? I mean, I’d be lying if I said I always use the best stuff. Use what you like or have. Sometimes I use the one form Lidl, sometimes I splash out.

So, however you mix it up, let me know what works for you—or what didn’t! Food’s meant to be a bit of a journey, right? And if you’re after more salad inspiration, these BBC Good Food salads are fun to scroll through (even if you only end up making toast).

Herby Lentil & Burrata Salad