Minestrone (Melissa's Version)
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There is no recipe for making minestrone. It’s simply a vegetable soup that incorporates whatever is available. Minestrone is more of a method for making do with what you have.
Some may disagree but I don’t think there is really such thing as traditional minestrone. Sure it’s an Italian dish but that doesn’t really mean much given Italy’s regional and local diversity. “Traditional” will mean something different to whomever is eating.
For me, minestrone is traditionally plant-based. Both my Nonnas use veggie and bean broths. They don’t add meat stocks or parmesan rinds as some do. But while they both make a bean-forward minestrone, one will use a hearty blend of beans that she grows in her garden, and the other will use whatever is in the cantina. She’s a bit unpredictable. Sometimes she’ll use Romano, and other times lentils.
Neither of my Nonna’s minestrone are very tomatoey but I’ve tasted very tomato-centred minestrone at home and in Italy. Neither of my Nonna’s add pasta to their soups, but some minestrones will feature noodles small or large. Instead of pasta, however, my Nonnas will add plenty of potatoes, which aren’t always present. I think this addition might have been because of me, a once picky grandchild who complained about all vegetables but had a perpetual hunger for potatoes. Certainly, their recipes have adapted over many years to suit the yield of their gardens, inflation, fickle children and grumpy men.
Even though my paternal Nonna taught me how to make minestrone, mine tastes little like hers, though, it borrows many elements. My minestrone is similarly bean and potato forward. However, I’ll often use white wine and ginger, which aren’t typical minestrone ingredients but are ones I keep in my home and that impart flavours I enjoy. My Nonna’s minestrone will always be my favourite but my version is like my own cooking fingerprint.
Because of minestrone’s adaptable specificity, I debated whether or not I should offer anything resembling a precise recipe in this newsletter.
On the one hand, I want to encourage anxious cooks and sometimes precision helps build confidence in the kitchen. On the other, I don’t think prescribing ingredients without context is in the interest of making cooking more accessible. We all arrive to recipes from different places. It’s weird for me to assume that something is good and affordable to you without knowing where you are, where you are shopping, what is important to you, how many people you’re feeding, what your taste preferences are, if you have intolerances or allergies, etcetera, etcetera.
What actually might help make cooking more accessible and exciting is encouraging people to use what they have and to trust their tastes. That is, to encourage people to develop a method.
Like I said earlier, minestrone is a method and so, I’ll walk you through my process in case you would appreciate support in cultivating your own:
For me, making minestrone begins the night before. I’ll soak rinsed dry beans—usually cannellini or Romano— overnight with a touch of salt and some bay leaves. They’ll soak up some of these flavours but not much.
The next day, I ease into my soup making by chopping up my tasty bits— onions, shallots, garlic, fennel, celery, carrots, fresh ginger, and leftover sprigs of rosemary and oregano. The ginger isn’t traditional to minestrone but I love ginger and so I’ve added it. Garlic and ginger get minced but the others are chopped into the size I like veggies to be in soup, which is small because I like getting as many flavours and textures as I can into one spoonful.
Once I get towards the end of my chopping, I start to heat up my pot to a medium heat. When heated, I’ll add a generous amount of olive oil and a medium amount of red pepper flakes, and once that oil-pepper flake concoction is hot, I add my tasty bits, seasoning them with salt and black pepper. That mixture will sweat for a little and begin developing the strong flavour base I need for the rest of the soup.
When the onions are translucent and glistening, I add my white wine, letting it cook off (lid on) for a few minutes or so. After a nice stir and quick taste, I add some tomato paste. Then, I let the flavours mingle.
After everyone is acquainted in the pot, I’ll add the beans and potatoes, as well as enough water to submerge them. The amount of water really depends on how much olive oil and white wine I used earlier, but generally I don’t like to dilute the flavours with too much water. At this point, I season well because the beans and potatoes will be absorbing the liquid they cook in at the same time as they impart their flavours to the broth.
The lid goes back onto the pot and from here on out it’s a matter of time. Usually I let my minestrone go for quite a while, though I taste it and season it as it simmers. I let it cook for a long time because I like how the flavours develop and how the beans and potatoes eventually lose their shape and start falling apart into the broth.
If you make minestrone, let me know how it goes! I want to know how you’ve made it your own. I dream of one day having a minestrone potluck where everyone brings their own version of minestrone and we all get to be cozy and full together! For now, I’ll be satiated by the online version.
Also, bean lovers, don’t forget about my collaboration with Baddie Sticker Studio on these bean stickers and other bean paraphernalia!
