Settling into Stillness and Fennel Seeds for La Ribollita (Tuscany)

It was a cold late September day. A few consecutive days really. An anomaly – I was told: ”Questo non è normale (it’s not normal)”. I was also told on a different occasion, once the chill in the air disappeared like a flip of a coin and we were sunbathing in October again: ”But what is normal? Nobody understands this weather and there are no seasons anymore. June was extremely hot, it’s still very hot now, everything is dry and the plants need water”. Together with the lady who has lived here most of her life and who I see once a week, we gave each other a mutually understandable facial expression and raised our eye brows. I suppose it was a communication without words, commonly known as „parlare con i gesti”, although we didn’t use any gesticulation at all.

Hands or no hands involved, I finally felt I was back in Italy feeling at home again. Little things that make a world of a difference. They come with time and they require some patience, otherwise you risk looking as if you were trying too hard, overdoing it unfortunately – I’m sure you know what I’m trying to say here. Pazienza (patience)!

Pazienza has been a long term learning curve for a quite impatient parson like myself. But here we are, along with the Dégustatuer we’ve been waiting very calmly for our proper home to be ready (longer than we hoped for) living out of a couple of suitcases, is just one example. Needless to add that a stunning location and wonderful people around us (some relationships built over the years) help to ease the feeling of longing for home. If I stay too long here I may never want to leave; I love this part of the world and it’s country way of living, which is currently evolving around hunting, makings of olio nuovo and inevitably, the wine. If you gave me a house tomorrow in this precious part of Tuscany I strongly suspect that I could change our plans……

During that brief September dip in temperatures I decided to put my patience to the test. The Dégustatur was leaving for a couple of days meaning I had some time to play with ingredients slowly and properly. We shopped that morning for bunches of cavolo nero, bieta (Swiss chard), chicory, carrots, red onions, potatoes, garlic and courgettes. I wanted to get a head of savoy cabbage too, but there was only one left at the stand and it didn’t look that ….inviting. The following day I learnt that also this particular stand, the second fruit and vegetable street stand nearest to us, was closing as the end of the season was approaching. So no savoy cabbage, and strangely enough I’ve never been able to get any fresh sage or rosemary here. Not even in a supermarket, contrary to everywhere else I had lived before. I’ve never actually asked why that is, assuming that these so commonly used herbs in Tuscan cooking must be simply grown at home. I partially solved the situation by foraging some fresh rosemary from a house next door, 20 min by foot away so please take ”next door” with a pinch of salt. I popped the rosemary and a few cloves of garlic into a pot along with pre-soaked cannellini beans, covered it with cold water and simmered away until tender.

You see, I was making la ribollita, a slowly cooked hearty and nutritious vegetable soup thickened with some stale white bread, a perfect example of a frugal smart and creative cooking, using up many ingredients that we all tend to have in our kitchens. But I still had no sage at this point and I wanted some more flavour in my soup. Then it occurred to me: how about fennel seeds, currently my main flavouring ingredient, just after salt and black pepper, followed by full bodied peppery olive oil – we live very simply here. I must tell you, once I’ve added some fennel seeds to the ribollita (as well as a few other dishes I’ve cooked in Tuscany so far), there is no going back. I loved the end result. Maybe not the most conventional sage replacement, but don’t we all adapt the recipes to our own palettes? That’s the whole beauty of each household having their own, sometimes a guarded secret, twist on a classic?

To prepare la ribollita was a natural choice for me given that we live in Tuscany at the moment, had lived in Florence for almost two years, we know certain flavours, specialities and have observed how the seasonal ingredients change at proper farmer’s markets over the course of a year. I’ve grown fond of having for breakfast a slice torta di ceci, also called la farinata in Liguria, or castagnaccio with pine nuts and raisins (chickpea flour and chestnut flour rustic specialities). Little things that I wish to continue to cherish once we leave.
October was a month of contraries in Tuscany: sunny mornings promising summery days, dark and cooler early evenings whilst the nature quietly retreated. A hint at the proper autumn ahead.

There is a peaceful charm to November but we are not fully settling into the stillness yet, not here.
Yes, as the season of heavy, sweet and gold autumnal air slides into crisp and clean with each passing dawn there is the return to comfort of slowly cooked meals, roast chestnuts, early evenings spiced with full bodied red wine. There is that distinct smell of burnt wood wafting through the village leading us to our enoteca for dinner, we can finally see the morning and late afternoon mist settling. There are morning wake up calls at 6.30 am offered by the hunters who start the day with a bang. If the first gunfire shot is not right behind our house then we manage to sleep until 7.05 am, i.e. until more bang bang. But it’s all so lovely, and the morning coffee tastes so much better drinking it outside wearing a warm jersey and soaking in the atmosphere whilst the grass is still wet after the night.

It just simply couldn’t be a more perfect time for making la ribollita (this time with some cabbage), to keep us warm once we’ve watched the sunset holding a glass of red wine in both hands. Moments to cherish, moments to remember in the years to come.

Aleksandra xx

 

La Ribollita

A small tip before you begin: once you’ve washed all the ingredients, chop or cut them into smaller pieces keeping them separately. They will be added to the soup gradually starting with the ones that need the longest time to cook.

Serves 6:

– 1 large white or red onion, peeled and chopped

– 4-5 medium carrots, peeled and chopped or cut into rounds

– 3-4 small celery sticks, chopped

– 1 medium leek, white part only, chopped

– 2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed, you could replace them with pumpkin or squash

– half a head of a savoy cabbage, leaves only, cut into smaller pieces

– 1 large bunch of cavolo nero, stalks removed, leaves cut into smaller pieces

– 1 large bunch of Swiss chard (bieta), hard stalks removed, leaves cut into smaller pieces

– 1 bunch of chicory or spinach (both optional), stalks removed, leaves cut into smaller pieces

– 3-4 small courgettes, preferably of the Romanesco variety, cut into rounds

– 200-250 g of dry cannellini beans (you’ll need to soak them overnight in cold water)

– 2-3 garlic cloves, not peeled

– a sprig of rosemary or a few sage leaves

– a scant teaspoon of fennel seeds

– 1-2 tablespoons of tomato puree or a small cup of tomato passata

– 4-6 slices of a good white stale bread

– about 500-600 ml of vegetable stock (see note*), or as much as is needed (this is meant to be a very thick soup)

– salt

– black pepper

– olive oil for frying plus more to finish

The method:

Prepare the beans:

Drain the beans, place them in a pot and cover with cold water, 3 cm over the beans, add 2-3 garlic cloves (skin on) and the rosemary sprig (or sage). Bring to the boil, lower the temperature and simmer until tender, skimming off any impurities whilst cooking.

Once the beans turn soft, take the rosemary sprig (or sage) out, add a generous pinch of salt, give everything a stir and set to the side for 20 minutes. After that, using a slotted spoon, take a third of the beans out. Peel the garlic cloves, put them back into the pot with the beans and blend everything into a smooth creamy liquid using a hand blender. Set on the side until needed.

In a large pot heat up 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil.
Add the chopped onion, celery, leek and carrots. Season with some salt and fry on a medium heat for about 5 minutes. Add the fennel seeds and the cubed potatoes, fry everything for a further a few minutes stirring gently.
Once you start to smell the aroma of the fennel seeds, ladle a few spoons of the stock into the pot.
Bring it to the boil, lower the heat to medium and begin to add the greens into the pot – starting with the cabbage leaves first, after a few minutes add the cavolo nero (pour in more stock if need but not all at once), after a little while add the Swiss chard, chicory or spinach if using. Pour in more stock but only just to cover the vegetables. Now add the tomato pure or passata, pour in the creamed beans, season with more salt and a little of black pepper. Cover with the lid and simmer until all the vegetables turn tender, adding the courgettes and the remaining beans half way through.
Once the vegetables turn soft take the soup off the heat. Taste and season with salt and pepper.

Prepare the bread:

If your bread is quite fresh, say just one day old, place the bread slices in the preheated oven to 150 C/ static, and bake for 15-20 minutes. The bread is meant to dry rather than toast. Leave to cool.
Tear or cut the bread and add it to the soup pressing it gently, allowing the bread to soak up almost all the liquid.
Leave the soup to rest for a minim of 30 minutes before reheating. Remember, it’s meant to be very thick so don’t be tempted to dilute it with more stock. Give the soup a gentle stir and more seasoning if needed.

Serve warm in individual soup bowls, decorated with a drizzle of a good olive oil, preferably Tuscan, and a pinch of black pepper.
The ribollita gets even better on the following day, hence I always make a large pot of it to enjoy it in the days to come.

For the vegetable stock*:

I used all the peels (potato, carrot, onion), stems (bieta, cavolo nero, chard), celery tops, the green part from the leek and the savoy cabbage choke, covered them with just enough of cold water, brought to the boil and simmered with the lid on for about an hour. That way there was no need for extra vegetables to make the stock with, inevitably, all the ingredients have to be thoroughly washed.

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