Tag Archives: winter

Recipe: Minestrone

8 Oct

I remember a teacher in elementary school bringing our class a batch of “Everything But the Kitchen Sink” cookies, which I’d never had before. I didn’t quite understand the name, so the teacher explained that it meant she had put all sorts of things into the cookies, almost everything in her kitchen but the kitchen sink. That day, I tasted a new cookie and learned a new phrase.

For me, Minestrone is an “Everything but the Kitchen Sink” soup. When the leaves start turning colors in the fall — ie, when soup weather is upon us — and I have vegetables to use up, I immediately think “Minestrone.” In Italian, minestra means “soup;” minestrone means “big soup.” And it really is a big soup, full of so many good things.

Of those good things, there is one without which this cannot be Minestrone, in my view: the cheese rinds. We usually have a wedge of Pecorino Romano cheese in the fridge, and as we get to the last of each wedge, I save the rinds. Without some rind, the soup will not taste like Minestrone; the slow-simmered cheese is a huge part of what makes the broth so delicious.

Aside from the rinds and the soffritto ingredients (onion, carrot, celery; see below), I like to add canned tomatoes, zucchini, white beans, and cabbage or spinach or both (or any other leafy green). Plus pancetta when I have it, potatoes if I need to use some up, and small pasta if there is room.

Today this is what I had at hand:

Fridge:

  • two onion halves (one red, one white)
  • four stalks of celery
  • some leftover grated carrots (about 1.5 c.)
  • zucchini (I had 2, but ended up using only 1 big one)
  • some shredded cabbage, ie ‘cole slaw’ mix (about 4.5 oz/127 gr)
  • baby spinach (about 3-4 handfuls)
  • Some Pecorino Romano and Parmesan ‘heels’ (see photo)

Freezer:

  • Cubed pancetta (4 o oz/113 gr)

Pantry:

  • Yukon Gold potatoes (I had 3, but ended up using only 2)
  • Whole peeled tomatoes
  • Cannellini beans (2 cans, 15.5 oz/440 gr each, undrained)
  • Garlic (3 large cloves)
  • Bay leaves
  • Vegetable bouillon cubes
  • Salt and pepper

Perfect–I had everything I needed for Minestrone! I also had mini pasta sea shells, which I’ve used in Minestrone before, but I did not use them this time; by the time I got to the point where I would have added them, there was no more room in the pot! Plus, dry pasta keeps and I had to use up the potatoes. (If you have pasta but no potatoes or just prefer the pasta, add a handful of that instead.)

For me, Minestrone is a soup I make in ‘layers,’ meaning I start with the first ingredients and while they are cooking, I prep the others, adding them to the pot as I go. Today, I started by cooking the pancetta in olive oil in a large Dutch Oven until it got crispy. (If you are vegetarian, omit the pancetta).

While the pancetta was cooking, I diced the onions and celery, then added them–and the already-grated carrots and a couple bay leaves–to the pot along with a splash more olive oil. This mixture of onions, celery, and carrots is what the Italians call soffritto and the French call mirepoix, and it is the foundation of many great soups. When the veggies got soft, I crushed the garlic cloves straight into the pot, added some freshly ground black pepper, and cooked everything for a couple more minutes. This is what I consider to be Layer 1, made up of a few subparts. [I forgot to take a photo of this, however.]

To start building Layer 2, I added some hand-crushed tomatoes and their juices to the soup pot. If I’d had a can of diced tomatoes, I would have used that instead–but necessity is the mother of hand crushing. With a very clean hand, I gently took a whole peeled tomato from the can, and crushed it into the soup pot, repeating until I had crushed all the tomatoes. [Note: If you will also crush the tomatoes by hand, lower your hand as far as possible into the pot, and crush each tomato very slowly. Otherwise, the likelihood of having crushed tomato all over your back stove wall, and yourself, is extremely high–as I’ve learned from experience.]

Successfully hand-crushed tomatoes; all in the pot, none on me

Then I added the cheese rinds (trimmed of the outer, colored parts) and 4 cups of water and let everything simmer while I diced the potatoes. When the potatoes were ready, I added them, the canned cannellini beans with all their liquid, and a vegetable bouillon cube to the pot, along with more freshly ground pepper. This is Layer 2. I let this simmer, partially covered, for about 10 minutes while I prepped the zucchini for Layer 3.

Nestling cheese rinds into the soup

In Layer 3, I added the diced zucchini and the already-shredded cabbage, and continued to simmer the soup until the zucchini and potatoes were both soft. I also checked the seasonings and decided to add another bouillon cube and a little salt. At that point, my Minestrone was essentially done and ready to serve, so I did the very last thing: I put the handfuls of spinach on top and stirred until the spinach was wilted in.

Then I set the soup pot out for everyone to serve themselves (with everyone getting at least one piece of the now-soft cheese rinds–an absolute treat), along with some freshly grated Pecorino Romano to sprinkle on top. Mmmm. So good on a fall day.

Wintery Visit to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden

15 Feb

There are all sorts of reasons people visit gardens, from learning more about the plants themselves, to getting ideas for home gardens, to simply being in a peaceful, aesthetically pleasing space that allows them to recharge while communing with Nature.

Botanic gardens are indoor/outdoor museums, and I love visiting them–for all of the reasons above. I like to explore wide and far, taking advantage of the brief respite these beautiful gardens can provide while seeing and learning something new. But in the winter, it becomes a bit more challenging to visit gardens–it is cold and many plants are in their dormant phases. There is great beauty in a winter garden, but there is also great joy in being able to leave the cold behind and enter a warm conservatory full of tropical plants. That is one of the great attractions of a botanic garden in the winter.

During a recent trip to New York City (just after a major snowfall), we made a point of stopping by the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It looked like a white wonderland…


… with snow and ice, and


frozen crabapple fruits.

 
The conservatory beckoned, with its various houses and pavilions. We entered shortly before the gardens closed for the day, but were able to appreciate some very welcome sights: a Cape Aloe flower and a Cardinal’s Guard flower (above), as well as the lovely leaf of a Garden Croton (below). For a moment, we forgot all about the storm outside.

Japanese Flowering Apricot

16 Mar

Washington DC is gearing up for this year’s Cherry Blossom festival from March 20 to April 14. It is not only an annual celebration of the capital’s famous cherry trees, but also a key indicator that spring might finally be here. The peak bloom period is expected to be March 26-30.

As gorgeous as the cherry blossoms are, there is an equally gorgeous ornamental tree that is in bloom earlier, from January through March, and that can be seen in the relative calm of Maryland’s Brookside Gardens. It is the Japanese Flowering Apricot (Prunus mume), which puts on a quite a show at a fairly monochromatic time of year in the Northern Hemisphere–a time of year when we are all becoming a bit desperate for some color.

Despite its striking beauty, this tree is not as well known in the United States as other ornamental trees, though more nurseries are now stocking it. Aside from the wonderful attribute of being in bloom when almost nothing else is, the tree is also ideal for smaller gardens, since it only gets to about 20-25 feet. I am now sorely tempted to re-evaluate my garden plan.

A Not So Bleak Midwinter

7 Feb

Thus far, our winter has been relatively mild, but nonetheless, the garden looks like a shell of its former self: gaps where perennials have died back or where old growth was pruned to make way for new–and all remaining plants a monochromatic brown relieved only by occasional bits of evergreen.

A fleeting snowfall transformed this landscape for a day, accentuating the stark beauty of the plants that have soldiered on. A reminder that there are bright spots even in the depth of winter.

Presenting three “roses”: a frozen Hybrid Tea Rose bud, a sprig of Rosemary, and the dried seed pods of Rose of Sharon.

 

Last Few Spots of Color

1 Dec

The garden is looking quite sad now, after a few frosts. What remains is for the most part bare, brown, drooped,  or shriveled–all of which would be quite depressing if not for the fact that after every autumn/winter comes the spring. For gardens, at least, the current state of affairs is not permanent.

But amid the early December bleakness, a few spots of color remain–a small selection of plants that are not quite ready to call it quits (plus one bud that looked particularly nice this morning–the last bit of interest on an otherwise denuded plant).

In order of appearance (from left to right, top to bottom) : Gaillardia (Fanfare),   Montauk Daisy, Variegated Sage (Tricolor) , Euphorbia (Ascot Rainbow), and a bud from a tree Azalea (Gibraltar).