We just got our first Organics to You delivery since we arrived back home. Delivery days are perfect for making an ambitious new dish from fruit desserts and one pot meals to vegetarian entrees and soups, since the produce is so farm fresh. This time, I started thinking about doing a minestrone soup—something to incorporate lots of vegetables and still have the tomato angle that I crave.

I worked off of a Tuscan recipe from La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy, which is a product of the efforts of Italian culinary scholars who sought to preserve authentic and regional Italian cooking in a comprehensive book, almost fifty years ago. The scholars traveled around the countryside, interviewing grandmothers and farmers about their specialties and recipes that were handed down. I've found that it's an excellent resource with clear and simple instructions that you can tailor to your own taste.

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This minestrone is robust and flavorful with all of the notes of harvest time. The vegetables are aplenty and the pasta gives a nice firm bite to every spoonful. Buon appetito!


Tuscan minestrone

5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 oz. applewood cured bacon, chopped
1 leek (white part only), washed thoroughly and chopped
1/2 cup basil, cut into chiffonade
1 potato, peeled and chopped
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1/2 lb Swiss chard, cut into a chiffonade
1 head of baby lettuce, chopped
1 small summer squash, peeled and chopped
4 oz. string beans, chopped
2 or 3 ripe Roma tomatoes, peeled and chopped
2 cups tomato puree
2/3 cup white navy beans (I used canned beans, but Mr. Bittman would recommend dried beans instead)
Chicken broth
1/2 lb elbow pasta

1. In a pot, heat the olive oil and saute the bacon, leek, and basil over medium heat.

2. Add all of the vegetables except for the tomatoes.

3. Add salt to taste, cover, and cook over low heat for 10 minutes.

4. Add the tomatoes (without seeds), tomato puree, beans, and enough broth to cover.

5. Cook slowly for 2 hours, stirring occasionally and adding more broth or water as needed.

6. Add a bit of pasta for each bowl of soup that you are ready to eat and cook for 10 minutes; when the pasta is al dente the soup is finished. (If you add all of the pasta at once, it will become mushy when you reheat it for leftovers.)

7. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil.

thoughts of my grandmother's tomato soup transport me to her hot kitchen with its lumpy floorboards and small oak cabinets with black iron drawer pulls--the comforting smell of a chicken stock bubbling and memories of my grandfather sitting at their hardwood table slicing eggy noodles from sheets of freshly rolled dough. after adding the tomato paste, the vapors would float from her copper pot, tangy and sweet, promising the firm bite of the noodles and freshly ground black pepper. And soon enough I would hear my name bellowed from the kitchen, and I would race to my grandmother's side, bowl in hand. A plop of velvety sour cream, a ladle full of noodles from my grandfather, and a pinch of garden dill from his finely weathered hand--and I would make my way to the table hungry and thankful for every slurp.



a perfect saturday dinner to remember our visit with them last summer: tomato soup, egg noodles, and hefeweizen

and some banana bread for dessert, because we're just that good.