IN DEFENSE OF MINESTRONE
Think about it: when you visualize the word minestrone, are you picturing something out of a tin, rather mushy and beige, thickened with excessive amounts of corn starch, laced with MSG, and including tiny cubes of unidentifiable vegetables? I use to loathe minestrone. It used to frequently be the vegetarian option on hospital dietary menus, served up religiously in school canteens, found tinned in mini marts which were open all hours. There always seemed to be several tins of minestrone on the shelves, even when the stocks of chicken noodle were running low. I assume, because nobody ever bought them.
I used to find it a really uninteresting mealtime option; what was the point of choosing minestrone, in all of its vegetable blandness, when something else involving beef, pork, or lamb weighed in, with the promise of more flavour, more chunkiness, more hunger-satisfying munchiness?
My husband confirms that when he was a lad back in 1940's and 50's post-war, food-rationed Britain, minestrone was a culinary crime against humanity.
I made homemade minestrone for lunch the other day, and he looked positively betrayed. To be fair, when he asked what was for lunch, and I said minestrone, his childhood soup-related nightmares came back to haunt him.
What he couldn't have known was that I was down in the kitchen, rootling through the fridge/freezer, and extracting the most glorious, colourful, nutrition-packed and vibrant collection of ingredients for The Mother of All Minestrones. It read like a Who's Who of Vegetables from Mr MacGregor's Garden:
*Onion *Garlic *Celery *Carrot *Tomato *Courgette *Peas *Green Beans *Spinach *Mushrooms *Cannellini Beans
Then I started adding The Fun Stuff:
*Soup Pasta *Chicken stock *Grated Parmesan *Pancetta lardons *Two heaped spoonfuls of Pesto* *Fresh basil, torn by hand *A dash of cayenne *A swirl of extra virgin olive oil to finish *Crusty bread on the side
To be fair, it was gilding the lily a bit, adding olive oil and pesto and basil and cheese , but I couldn't help myself: I was in some sort of culinary-induced trance whereby I ransacked the cupboards, hunting for even more and more delicious ingredients to fling into the soup kettle.
I softened the harder, root vegetables first, in olive oil and pancetta. After about ten minutes I added the more tender vegetables, the stock, and the soup pasta, simmering gently for about ten minutes, before finishing off the soup with the pesto, basil and cayenne. I put grated cheese in the bottom of each bowl and ladled the hot soup over the cheese. Crusty bread on the side needs no explanation; human beings are hard-wired to know what to do with crusty bread.
I actually am not too keep on the Italian habit of including pasta and beans together in the same soup as it seems too heavy, but the weather has been so cold recently, and our beautiful new house is so marble-y and so cold, that piling on the complex carbohydrates seems just the thing to keep us warm, and healthy, and nourished.
Because that's the fun of minestrone : whether you prepare it as a destination recipe, or an all-spare-parts Sunday night leftovers type of thing, it can really always be delightful. Which is why it is so commonly seen on menus. But maybe not always so delightful.
Please always try to use fresh, or freshly frozen ingredients. They look better, they taste better, they feel better on the tongue. Leftover stewing vegetables just don't hack it, and all of the nutrition will have been cooked out of them in the first half hour.
Looking over my recent posts, I seemed to have become some sort of champion of Popular Italian Food. I've defended Spaghetti Bolognese, Neapolitan Ice Cream, and now this. They can be fabulous foodstuffs, which is why they are popular, and why companies try to mass-produce them, but so much gets lost in translation when they are not made well.
Honestly, this is just a thick vegetable soup. The veggie-hating inner child in you may be resisting this soup with every fibre in your being, but I encourage to to try it, just once, homemade, and let your imagination run away with you. You may oh so easily, become a convert too.
I used to find it a really uninteresting mealtime option; what was the point of choosing minestrone, in all of its vegetable blandness, when something else involving beef, pork, or lamb weighed in, with the promise of more flavour, more chunkiness, more hunger-satisfying munchiness?
My husband confirms that when he was a lad back in 1940's and 50's post-war, food-rationed Britain, minestrone was a culinary crime against humanity.
I made homemade minestrone for lunch the other day, and he looked positively betrayed. To be fair, when he asked what was for lunch, and I said minestrone, his childhood soup-related nightmares came back to haunt him.
What he couldn't have known was that I was down in the kitchen, rootling through the fridge/freezer, and extracting the most glorious, colourful, nutrition-packed and vibrant collection of ingredients for The Mother of All Minestrones. It read like a Who's Who of Vegetables from Mr MacGregor's Garden:
*Onion *Garlic *Celery *Carrot *Tomato *Courgette *Peas *Green Beans *Spinach *Mushrooms *Cannellini Beans
Then I started adding The Fun Stuff:
*Soup Pasta *Chicken stock *Grated Parmesan *Pancetta lardons *Two heaped spoonfuls of Pesto* *Fresh basil, torn by hand *A dash of cayenne *A swirl of extra virgin olive oil to finish *Crusty bread on the side
To be fair, it was gilding the lily a bit, adding olive oil and pesto and basil and cheese , but I couldn't help myself: I was in some sort of culinary-induced trance whereby I ransacked the cupboards, hunting for even more and more delicious ingredients to fling into the soup kettle.
I softened the harder, root vegetables first, in olive oil and pancetta. After about ten minutes I added the more tender vegetables, the stock, and the soup pasta, simmering gently for about ten minutes, before finishing off the soup with the pesto, basil and cayenne. I put grated cheese in the bottom of each bowl and ladled the hot soup over the cheese. Crusty bread on the side needs no explanation; human beings are hard-wired to know what to do with crusty bread.
I actually am not too keep on the Italian habit of including pasta and beans together in the same soup as it seems too heavy, but the weather has been so cold recently, and our beautiful new house is so marble-y and so cold, that piling on the complex carbohydrates seems just the thing to keep us warm, and healthy, and nourished.
Because that's the fun of minestrone : whether you prepare it as a destination recipe, or an all-spare-parts Sunday night leftovers type of thing, it can really always be delightful. Which is why it is so commonly seen on menus. But maybe not always so delightful.
Please always try to use fresh, or freshly frozen ingredients. They look better, they taste better, they feel better on the tongue. Leftover stewing vegetables just don't hack it, and all of the nutrition will have been cooked out of them in the first half hour.
Looking over my recent posts, I seemed to have become some sort of champion of Popular Italian Food. I've defended Spaghetti Bolognese, Neapolitan Ice Cream, and now this. They can be fabulous foodstuffs, which is why they are popular, and why companies try to mass-produce them, but so much gets lost in translation when they are not made well.
Honestly, this is just a thick vegetable soup. The veggie-hating inner child in you may be resisting this soup with every fibre in your being, but I encourage to to try it, just once, homemade, and let your imagination run away with you. You may oh so easily, become a convert too.
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