Baked Minestrone to Evoke Memories Long Since Passed

I had been forewarned about the hairpin turns but what I hadn't been prepared for was the splendor of the canyon ablaze in reds and golds. The tiniest of the three of us had somehow managed to wedge herself in the "back" as we headed south in the cherry red sports car. The beauty of the Smith River Canyon in deep fall zipping past our windows. Each one of us was feeling a bit homesick as the holidays approached. So, our driver was taking us home. One of those "college weekends at home." To her home. Dolly and Kenny quietly crooning in the background...her Christmas album that always has top bidding as the first one to play each year. The three of us talking about this and that. Nothing much. Heading deeper and deeper into the dense forest.

Funny how our memories work. Only the keenest among us remembering everything. Most of us only remembering fleeting moments within moments. But sometimes those brief but remembered bits of time passed leave an indelible mark on us. We carry those bits around with us throughout our lives. Over time, we jostle those memories around in our heads. And they evolve. Take on different shapes. The sharpest details tend to fall by the wayside. Details no longer of importance. And the edges begin to soften. But one thing never changes....when. We can never change when those memories actually occurred and what they taught us about ourselves or others who surrounded us at that time in our lives.

Seeing as my college "mode-of-transportation" was a bike, I was quite thrilled to have spent the past 5 hours riding shotgun in the cherry red sports car and only felt a tinge of guilt as our tiny friend unravelled herself from the back of the two-seater car after pulling into the driveway. Here we were. At the childhood home of our dear friend. Our first time visiting. We entered her gracious home and for the rest of the weekend, we were treated to glimpses into her childhood. Into bits and pieces that made her who she is. Her bedroom with the canopy bed. The bathroom she shared with her sisters. The white carpeting in the living room. The restored Victorian where they spent numerous special occasions. Her family's place of business. The bay. The barn in her backyard. Her mother. Her father.

Sometimes I wonder if you can truly know a person without knowing her family. Her hometown. All the places and people that touched her during those most impressionable years of childhood.

We sat around that large wooden table in her family room. Talking. Petting her dog (or was it dogs?) that reminded me of my family dog. Her mother, who had been just out of our vision in the kitchen, was now setting down bowls of minestrone in front of us. The warm and comforting smell causing my stomach to growl. And looking down into the bowl, I had to smile. Dancing around in my soup were black olives. The same black olives, back at my home, we would have put on our fingers like puppets. The same black olives my grandmother would have set out with sweet pickles and celery topped with cream cheese and paprika at Thanksgiving. And suddenly, surrounded by my dear friend's family, in her childhood home, eating a simple meal of minestrone soup, I didn't feel so homesick anymore. And no matter how many details fall off the edge of the memories from that weekend, I'll never forget the warmth. And it's those same feelings of warmth and family that define my dear friend to me. A friend whom I'm still fortunate enough to have in my life.

Baked Minestrone
by Linda Macdonald

I make this soup every fall. Sometimes a couple times during fall. So easy. So delicious. And, my favorite part are those simple black olives. I am not sure what the "baked" in the title of the recipe is meant to imply, but I am not one to argue with the creator of such a scrumptious dish. Now, Linda's instructions have you precooking your pasta before putting it in. I'm guessing that is to help prevent it from getting too soggy. I am always too lazy to do this step since it means washing another pot so I just throw my pasta in to cook in the broth about 15 minutes before I want to serve it. I also use 2 32-oz boxes of beef broth and omit the water since I don't want to waste the leftover broth. I will then add in some water if the stew has simmered down quite a bit and more liquid is needed. But however you do it, I hope you'll make a batch this stew and experience your own feelings of warmth and family as we approach the holidays.

Ingredients:

2 lbs stew meat, cubed
1 c onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 tsp Italian seasoning (I used Herbes de Provence because it's what I had on hand.)
OR 1 tsp oregano, 1 tsp basil and 1/2 tsp pepper

3 15-oz cans beef broth

2 c water

1 15-oz can of diced tomatoes, plus juice

1 1/2 c zucchini (approx 2)

1 c carrots

1 15-oz can kidney beans, plus juice
1 15-oz can medium, black olives, plus juice
1 c shell noodle, pre-cooked
parmesan cheese, grated
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Generously salt and pepper your stew meat. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a large soup pot over medium to medium-high heat. Brown your meat - possibly in two batches to prevent it from "stewing".

Add in your onions, garlic and Italian seasonings and cook another 3-4 minutes until the onions are starting to soften.

Add in your broth, water, tomatoes, zucchini and carrots. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for at least 30 minutes and up to an hour.

Add your kidney beans, black olives (and pasta, if you did not pre-cook it) and cook at a high simmer for another 15 minutes. If you pre-cooked your pasta, add it to the mixture right before serving.

Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary.

Ladle into shallow soup bowls. Top with parmesan cheese. Serve with some crusty bread and Caesar salad on the side. Enjoy....

Yield: One big pot full


All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

AM Northwest is in MY Kitchin' and We're Making "Soup on Monday"

When the kind, sweet people at AM Northwest asked if they could film a cooking segment in my kitchen, my first thought was, "Oh no, now I really am going to have to clean out that pantry." There's not much you can't find in my pantry. I like to keep my kitchen well-stocked with staples. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes not. But regardless of which way you look at it, that tiny little closet was much in need of an overhaul. I could even see the eyes widen of one of my dearest friends when I told her of this opportunity and then, she glanced at my pantry. She, a former, professional organizer, kindly gave me some helpful tips. "Okay, you're going to need to pull everything out of there. Wipe it all down. And then, only put back in what you're actually going to use." I was grateful for her advice.

But, in true Carrie Minns procrastination fashion, the day before an actual, TV camera would set forth in my kitchen...I decided to clean the fridge first. "This won't take long. I'll get to the pantry in a little bit." Armed with a soapy scrubber and a sharp knife for chipping off "who knows what" on the side door, I went to work making the fridge shine.

Pleased with my work there, I headed toward the pantry but then, found myself drawn to the drawers of school paperwork that had not been sorted through in at least 2 years. My thinking was that, "I must clean out these drawers because what if I need to move items from the pantry into these drawers? What would I do then? There would be no room."

The sun was on her downward arc, my littlest one was following my every movement, people would be clamoring for dinner soon and I was starting to lose steam. I stood at the door of the pantry and stared. I half-heartedly took down some items from one shelf. Spruced them up. Put them back. Managed to do that same process with one more shelf. Swept the floor and then, decided, "Good enough." I turned and headed to the kitchen table where the 5-year old was waiting to challenge me in yet another titillating game of Candy Land.

A few weeks ago, my friend Fran asked me what I thought when I saw myself on the TV. "Do you find little things that you want to change? Are you overly critical of yourself?" And I told her honestly, "The older I get, the easier I am on myself." Somewhere along the way I realized that I'm just doing my best. Not perfectly by any means, but just like everyone else, I'm going about life the best way I know how. Years ago, I would have stayed up until 2 in the morning to clean out that pantry but now, I've realized that I do what I can. The pantry will always be there, but the 5-year old waiting to "whoop" me in Candy Land, won't.


If a video screen does not appear above this line, click here to be taken directly to the site.
And hey, check out that fridge, lookin' good...

To further expound on the TV segment, I do try my best to meal plan every week. I look at the schedule ahead and see how much time I have to cook on any given night. I consider what is in-season. Then, I write down some idea for dinner Monday-Thursday and Sunday, whether scribbled on a post-it note or put down officially in my planner. Friday is our family pizza night (and my night off.) Saturday, I'm never sure what will end up happening or whether I'll find something at the farmer's market that morning so I usually leave it up in the air. Sundays are our true "Family Dinner" night. I always plan to make something a little more special and the kids rotate having to partner with me to make that meal. I get to have some company and they get to learn some cooking skills. Then, it's back to cleaning out the fridge, for "Soup on Monday."

Here's a link to an actual recipe that mimics the soup I made on the segment: Rainy Day Vegetable Soup


And, if you want to look further into meal planning, here are two websites dedicated to meal planning.
My friend, Jane Maynard, plans weekly at: This Week For Dinner
And my friend, Tricia Callahan, plans monthly at: Once a Month Mom


One last thing, if you'd like an incredibly beautiful reminder of all the bounty that this season has to offer for meal planning, check out this desk top calendar which currently graces the screen of my computer:
November Calendar by Shanna Murray and Jen Causey


Have a wonderful weekend, my friends!



All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Rainy Day Vegetable Soup

After years of cajoling, pleading, begging and badgering by my children...I finally planted the oft-promised vegetable garden. Of course, once the hoopla surrounding the choosing of the vegetables and the planting of the seeds was over, I was left alone to tend to my little plot. (Just as I'm sure would happen if I ever cave to the cries of, "When can we have a puppy?" Just me, the full grown dog, his hair and his, well, his "business" to pick up.) All that aside, I am thoroughly happy to tend to my garden. There is something quite gratifying about seeing those little green shoots poke their way up out of my plot's blank canvas. Even more satisfying is skipping back into the kitchen with a bowl full of my very own lettuce for that evening's salad. Lettuce I didn't have to pay for. Lettuce I didn't have to use the car to acquire. Lettuce that I know hasn't been sprayed with anything other than water. And, never mind about the little holes throughout the leaves, I'm happy to share my harvest with a few nighttime critters.

My little "potager" was ticking right along. The lettuce season was drawing to a close as the weather heated up. I was looking forward to my summer produce. Luscious tomatoes, crisp cucumbers and loads of zucchini I'd have to leave on doorsteps of neighbors in the middle of the night because I wouldn't know what to do with it all. And then, dear friend, as I'm sure you can sympathize...a water leak. One of those household maintenance projects that comes at you out of nowhere and scoots itself right to the top of the To Do list and strong arms everything else aside. There sat my precious garden. Right beneath the culprit of the leak...horrors! Over the course of the next few weeks, I watched as my tomato plants bravely stretched out their arms, baring their little yellow flowers and green globes. The zucchini put out its cheery orange blossoms and the cucumber plant decided to climb out and over the side. The beans bailed on the trellis and instead, scampered all over the ground. Meanwhile, a hailstorm of sawdust and debris tumbled down onto my little plants. Men on ladders were climbing up and over them. Mother Nature decided to heat up Portland to an unheard of 106 degrees. (Or 110, or 115 depending on whom you speak with and how much they like to embellish.) Their branches were broken. Their green leaves appeared to be covered with snow. And yet, even at the worst of it, when I could hardly bear to watch, I'd peak out from behind the curtain and somehow they were still there. Growing. Thriving.

I'm happy to report that I reaped my first harvest. Not much I'll admit but still...it's something. I popped the first 5 cherry tomatoes right into my mouth...well, after I gave them a good brushing off. Didn't share nary a one. I wasn't sure what to expect considering that their growing environment had been less than ideal. Ummmm. Sweet. Luscious. Juicy. And, the best part of homegrown tomatoes right off the vine...they were still warm from the sun.

As often happens here in Portland, even in the summer, our warm, morning sun was quickly blotted out by rain clouds, the temperature dropped and what should have been a day full of sprinklers and peals of laughter, became a day that sent everyone indoors, putting on jammies, wool socks and pining away for a nice, fall soup. Usually, I don't make this soup until autumn when the kids are back in school and apples are in season but considering that I had fresh, green beans at my beckon call and the weather had taken a turn...I went ahead. Plus, being a prolific soup maker, I had finally used the gift card my parents had bestowed upon me two years ago for Christmas to buy a brand new soup pot and I was dying to give it a whirl. So, there I stood, happy as a clam, cutting up my onions, green beans, zucchini and carrots while I sipped on a glass of scott paul pinot noir, cuvée Martha Pirrie, in honor of my dear father-in-law (or as the French say and I much prefer, my “beau-pére”) who passed away a year ago this day. I had his favorite Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass song, A Taste of Honey, playing in the background and I contentedly found myself lost in my remembrances of him and surrounded by the warm, swirling smells of sautéed onions.

I set down steaming bowls of my vegetable soup, a plate of Ayers Creek Farm blackberries and yellow peaches, sliced ciabatta bread and remnants of cheese pieces I found in the fridge - goat, brie, a hunk of cheddar - on the worn kitchen table. Within minutes, my children had licked their platters clean and we were nourished and fulfilled by our humble meal. We talked about Grandad. His smile. His quiet laugh. His humming. His love for his grandkids. And, as my sweetie put it, his gratitude for seemingly small things. So, please, if you will, dear friend, raise a glass for Grandad, his genuine gratitude and the pleasure of the harvest no matter how small. No matter how dusty.

Rainy Day Vegetable Soup - Summer Version

Ingredients:

1 tbls olive oil or a couple laps around the pot with the olive oil jug

2 med yellow onions

2 garlic cloves

1 cup carrots, diced

1 cup celery, diced

1 cup green beans, chopped into 1" pieces

2 medium zucchini, diced

2 tsp Herbes de Provence OR 6 sprigs fresh thyme & 2 bay leaves

2 qts chicken broth OR 2 qts vegetable broth for a vegetarian version

1 28-oz can diced tomatoes

1 15-oz can cannellini beans OR any other any other can of white beans you have lying around

2 medium, red- or white-skinned potatoes, cubed

A handful of small pasta - alphabet, orzo, broken spaghetti pieces, etc.

1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp ground pepper or to taste

Piece of parmesan cheese rind, optional

Pistou, optional:

1 cup fresh basil leaves

2 garlic cloves

1/4 cup grated, parmesan cheese

1/8 to 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/8 cup tomato paste, optional

Directions:

Before you begin, dear friend, please gather up for yourself a glass of your favorite sipping beverage, whether it be the aforementioned pinot noir or a simple cup of mint tea. (Sometimes my choice is tied directly to the noise level in our home.) Put on your favorite, calming, mood music and then, find yourself lost in the repetitive motion of your VERY SHARP knife slicing through the bounty.

Put your pot over low to medium heat to warm-up. Prep your onions to be diced. Swirl the olive oil in your pot and then, dice your onions. I find that doing these tasks in this order results in the perfect timing for heating and dicing. Now, if the thought of dicing an onion makes you literally flee the kitchen, please treat yourself to this 1 minute video How to Chop an Onion or most likely, any other you find on youtube of the same subject. I learned this technique years ago and it has made all the difference. You can apply the same principles to your other dicing needs as well.

Put your diced onion into your pot over medium-low heat. You want your onion to soften and become translucent with just a hint of caramel color but you don't want it to brown or burn. I find that this step, done correctly, is the secret to all delicious soups calling for onion. Stir occasionally. Check your heat to make sure your onions are not browning too quickly.

While your onion is sautéing, dice up your garlic, carrots and celery. Once they are prepped, pour them all into the pot, give them a stir and continue chopping your zucchini and green beans. Put them into the pot. Add the spices or fresh herbs, salt and pepper. Stir. Chop up your potato. At this point, your onions, celery and carrots should be softened and your green beans and zucchini, warmed. Pour your chicken stock and tomatoes into the pot, drop in the optional piece of parmesan cheese rind and bring it all to a boil. Once boiling, add your potatoes, bring back to a boil, then reduce heat and let simmer 20-25 minutes.

While your soup is simmering, you can decide to make the pistou or skip it. I always base my decision on how much time I have, how much energy I have remaining from my daily allotment and whether or not I have any fresh basil laying around. A nice grating of parmesan cheese over this soup does just as nicely as the pistou.

On this day, I decided to make the pistou which is just a fancy way of saying I made a type of paste that you dollop on top of your finished vegetable soup for added flavor dimension. Not having a mortal and pestle, I chopped up the basil and garlic. Then, I took the backside of a serving spoon and mashed up the two ingredients on my cutting board. I added the grated cheese to the pile and continued mashing. Then I just drizzled the olive oil on top. Stirred it all together until it was pasty and had everyone serve themselves the pistou straight from the cutting board. Why dirty another dish?

By this time, the "stomach-growling inducing" aroma filled the kitchen. I washed my blackberries. Sliced my peaches. Pulled some cheese out of the fridge to warm-up to room temperature. My buzzer went off. I added the cannellini beans and the handful of pasta and set the timer for another 10 minutes. By the time my buzzer went off again, I had laid out the bread, cheese, fruit and finagled one of the children innocently passing by the kitchen to pour a round of water for everyone. Before you knew it, we were sitting down to our meal and toasting Grandad.

Now, as with all things worth waiting for - wine, women, types of cheese, soups - this soup is delicious the first day but even better the next day and the next. As the soup ages, flavors co-mingle to give it a certain depth and complexity it lacks when it's so young. So, enjoy it for dinner tonight but appreciate the soup's deeper flavors the following days.

PS: Fish out that cheese rind after the initial cooking. I find that when left in the soup for subsequent days, the cheese flavor over-powers all of the other ingredients and therefore, tuns vegetable soup into a rather disturbing-looking cheese soup. And while you're fishing, you may want to grab the bay leaves and thyme stems. You wouldn't want to accidentally choke those down.

Yield: Enough for a family of 5, plus leftovers for lunch the next day.

Originally written: August 12, 2009

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009