italian wedding anniversary soup
Italian Wedding soup is, go figure, not served at Italian weddings. The name is technically a translation error of minestra maritata, meant to refer not to human marriage but to the marriage of pork and greens, allegedly better together than alone. But the myth of “wedding soup” being a matrimonial dish persists anyway.
I can understand why. Wedding Soup sounds significant and ceremonial, and it is. Mixing and rolling countless homemade mini meatballs, browning them individually, and then building a homemade soup around them is a specific caliber of effort. It’s when you want to demonstrate that your “good self” is your permanent self in even the most trivial of ways, maintaining the romantic illusions of putting mascara on every day and wearing cologne at home. Traditional Italian Wedding Soup is, of course, happy to put in this work, because it’s buoyed by the New Relationship Energy we all have when the act of being together is new and exciting—and because it’s underwritten by the desire we all have to prove we’re right for the person we want.
But whether it’s weeks or months or years after the Soup’s Wedding, this energy will inevitably fade as the commitment, intimacy, and safety deepens. What emerges then are your true selves, the ones who re-wear the same t-shirts and don’t bother to shave every day, who go on dates that are less about “going out” than they are “taking a break from being at home,” who do laundry together and openly discuss what’s in the litterbox over coffee.
Years into the marriage of Italian Wedding Soup, the true form of its founding relationship is clear. I will call it Italian Wedding Anniversary Soup.
This is not to say Anniversary Soup has let itself go. Rather, Anniversary Soup is simply less concerned with its outward appearances, and more concerned with what actually counts: the quality of the bond, which we’ve established here is the one between pork and greens. Wedding Anniversary Soup may shortcut the meatball-making step with sausage and use pre-made stock, or sub escarole for chard because it’s easier to find, but it still honors the sanctity of the union: keeping itself young with extra parm and a few more noodles than necessary, maintaining its zest with chili flakes hidden within the greens, and spending the reserved energy from a foreshortened prep on lighting the good candles and sitting together at the table.
Where traditional Wedding Soup is impressive and thoughtful, Wedding Anniversary Soup is substantive, real, comforting, and entirely comfortable with what it is; imperfect, yet artifice-free. It isn’t trying to impress you like it might have on the night you met, because it knows deep down it can’t—not anymore. Its only aim is to remind you why you keep coming back by reaffirming your compatibility, reminding you why what felt right to you once still does, no matter what surface qualities of its preparation have changed with time.
Some relationships are products of excitement, or of experimentation. Some are just random accidents. But if each relationship is itself its own recipe, it’s the ingredients alone—we’re still talking about pork and greens, clearly—that will determine the versatility, longevity, and adaptability of their marriage over the long haul. The amount of energy one has to spend within a relationship, as with most things, comes in waves; some ingredients, it seems, simply make a stronger pairing to withstand these tides than others.
recipe
When traditional Italian Wedding soup puts on sweatpants and gets comfortable in the relationship. A relaxed, and weeknight-friendly version of the classic Italian Wedding formula, with an easy and low-key genius shortcut: Italian sausage as meatballs.
Effortful time: 25 minutes
Total time: 45 minutes
Makes 4 large bowls
you need
For the meatballs
1 lb mild Italian pork sausage, preferably bulk (or removed from casings)
2 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. dried parsley
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup panko
2 tbsp. pecorino cheese
For the soup
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 baseball-sized onion, cut into quarters and thinly sliced into quarter moons
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
6 cups chicken stock, I used a pre-made bone broth
Pinch of chili flakes
Freshly cracked black pepper
1 large head escarole, which looks kind of like romaine lettuce; can sub green chard, kale, or spinach if you have trouble finding it
1 cup Israeli pearl couscous or ancini di pepe
Parm, optional, for serving
make it
Prep your ingredients. Chop your garlic and slice your onions.
Combine your fake balls. In a small mixing bowl, combine everything but from the “meatball” list except for the sausage, mixing it together with a fork. Now add the sausage and gently mix with your hands until fully combined.
Make your fake balls. Pinch 1/2” pieces of the sausage mixture and roughly roll each one once or twice in your hands. This should be quick—they don’t need to be perfect. Put these on a piece of parchment (or a plate).
Cook your balls, the base of your soup. Heat the other 2 tbsp. of oil in a large Dutch oven, 5 qt or larger, over medium-high heat. Once hot, add all the balls. I literally just dumped them in one batch from the parchment straight into the hot oil, and used the tip of a pair of tongs to roughly knock them into a single layer. Fry these for 3 minutes undisturbed, then use your tongs to move them around a little. You’re just trying to get good color on them, so don’t worry if some of them stick or break.
Heat water for pasta separately. While these cook, heat 5 cups of salted water in a separate saucepan til boiling.
Fry the onion and garlic. When the meatballs are fairly evenly browned, scoot them all to one side of the Dutch oven and adjust the pot’s position on the burner so the flame is over the empty part. The cooking fat will naturally collect in this spot. Add your onions and sauté these for 3 minutes, until soft and browned from the residual sausage fat in the pot. Add the garlic and sauté for 30 seconds longer. Adjust your pot back to its starting position and turn the heat to low.
Deglaze it. Pour in a big splash of your stock and deglaze your pan, getting all the brown crusty bits up with your cooking utensil. Add the remaining stock, chili flakes, and black pepper. Simmer this over medium low heat.
Cook your pasta. Add your pasta to the saucepan of boiling water. Cook this for 8 minutes. This will give your soup time for the flavors to meld and to wilt the escarole in your main pot.
Prepare your escarole and add it to the soup. Chop the escarole roughly (both the leaves and white parts), then putting it into a strainer. Rinse well. No need to dry, just add this straight to your soup pot. Note: this will work no matter what green you’re using.
Put it all together. Drain the pasta and add directly to the soup. Stir it all together to combine the greens, noodles, and meatballs. Simmer for 2-3 minutes longer. Serve with shaved parm, extra chili flakes, and fresh pepper.