This is nothing more comforting on a rainy, mid-February Monday than a bowl of steamy Minestrone. It’s the vegetarian’s chicken soup.
From the cook’s perspective this soup is made for a kitchen clean-out. You can vary the ingredient list depending on what you fine languishing in the crisper: kale, cabbage, chard, parsnips, turnips, celery root — you name it, practically anything will land happily in the pot.
This mixture is yummy, but I admit I love a roasted root (well, really anything roasted to be truthful). The carrots come out of the oven all soft, sweet and caramelized. I’m not a cooked carrot fan, but the turn in the heat does something downright magical here, that I can’t resist. You can dress these beauties with lemon juice and/or fresh herbs like parsley or cilantro, but even without you’ll be spreading this mushy, pumpkin-colored goodness on everything from lavash, to crusty bread to a clean finger. And here’s a secret, even vegetable-haters have admitted to liking this one…
(Serves 4 as part of a larger meal, 2 as the main course)
This is a sort of cooked, chunky spinach hummus — if that makes any sense. The bright green color proclaims healthy goodness that can’t be ignored. Nor will you want to, since the spread tastes as beautiful and fresh as it looks. Enjoy on toasted artisan bread, scooped with vegetables or spread on lavash with sliced veggies for a simple sandwich.
I use a small food processor driven by my immersion blender for processing the mixture, but you could also mash it with a potato masher or use the standard immersion blender. You’re working toward a chunky-smooth consistency that’s quite flexible. It’ll taste great regardless.
This recipe is adapted from Ina Garten’s The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. There’s a tattered copy on our shelf — stained with years of reverent use. Though we love Ina, we also routinely doctor her recipes to reduce the fat and salt content. She’s heavy-handed in these areas, but her recipes are always simple, pure and consistently satisfying. You can omit the cream (or reduce) if you like, but it adds a lovely richness. We’ve already reduced it by half from the original. If you have leeks, substitute one for some of the onion.
This recipe traces roots in many directions: the Boston-style baked beans of my youth (who knows how that got imbedded in my mid-western heritage); Southern slow-braised greens and black-eyed peas; and spicy Indian stews are among the inspirational muses. The sauce has a mildly spicy, sweet-sour tang that permeates the creamy beans. Collards are the perfect leaf for this dish since their substance loves a slow braise — they don’t go all mushy on you, but hold their character even as they become tender.