lemon parmesan soup with kale and white beans
An April birthday in Chicago will usually mean a storm, but it’s a toss up between conventional rain and thundersnow. Sometimes you get them back to back. In 2014, the year I originally developed this recipe, the power went out because of heat-lightning pockets. A few days later, this happened.
yes, this was april.
My mom, who dislikes getting older only slightly less than she enjoys climate volatility, typically has to experience both bummers at the exact same time. The year of the soup’s invention, my dad was also in California, enjoying the sun while we experienced a late season slush blizzard. Determined not to let it be a birthday failure, I drove out in the sleet to visit, and offered to bring ingredients to make whatever she’d like for dinner. She asked that I make a “healthy but good” soup. When I got there and unloaded my downtown Chicago Trader Joe’s bags onto her kitchen counters, she was particularly incredulous about the bag of black kale—”like kale chips? Does that go in soup? Will it be good in there?”—and to be honest, so was I.
My honest answer: “if it sucks, we can order barbecue delivery.”
It’s 2021. It’s almost April again. We still talk about this soup. She remembers the soup. The soup was discussed earlier. The soup will be discussed again.
again, this was SEVEN BIRTHDAYS ago
What makes this soup good is NOT the kale. It’s the Parmesan rind, which adds real creaminess and body without any actual cream required. It’s also the Herculean quantity of lemon, which transforms the soup from a typical chicken soup vibe into something decidedly more spring-flavored. Ditalini, a soup noodle with oddly perfect chew texture and which is impossible to find in certain parts of the country, is worth tracking down for this. Potatoes and beans soften in the process, making the broth extra silky.
Tonight when I made the soup again, I wrote down the new directions, thinking I’d give them a little spring refresh after nearly a decade in storage. But I could have just gone ahead and used the ones Squarespace saved here for me in this post SEVEN years ago, because after comparing them tonight, they are exactly the same. What has improved: the way I deliver instructions, which were hideously unspecific and a reflection of either the discipline I’ve gained or the discipline I once sorely lacked. Also improved: my iPhone, and therefore the photography. Please see attached.
But maybe I didn’t really need to improve it. Truly remarkable dishes don’t get redesigned every year to keep up with the times. They can be older than dirt yet show up year after year to the table unchanged. Why? Because those dishes have proven themselves dependable through strength of character that makes them immune to time and trends. They are often not terribly complicated or challenging, emphasizing substance above all. Our appreciation for these things may come in waves, but there is always a fondness there, a feeling of home to return to when we feel detached from our anchors.
For that reason this soup is dedicated to my mom, who is living proof of that concept, and who hopefully will accept this as a birthday tribute even though I’m about a month short of reposting it on her actual birthday.
RECIPE
Similar to a white minestrone, this lemon parmesan soup with kale and white beans is thickened with two not-secret ingredients—a parmesan rind and a potato—and brightened up with lots of lemon for a healthy, cozy-yet-light soup perfect a rainy spring night.
Effortful time: <10 minutes
Total time: 45 minutes
Serves: 6
YOU NEED
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 small shallot, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 large yellow potato, peeled and cut into 1/2” cubes
1 cup dry white wine
3 cans white beans, drained and rinsed; cannellini, great northern, or navy will all work (I used a mix because that’s what I had on hand)
8 cups chicken stock (I created it from Better than Bouillon)
A parm rind with about 1/2” of parm still attached to it; I just chop it off the one use to grate
1 cup dry Ditalini pasta
1 bunch (about 5 oz) of Tuscan black kale, big ribs removed and roughly chopped
Juice of 2 lemons
Pinch of chili flakes, optional
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Lemons, thinly sliced, for serving
Extra shaved parm, also for serving
MAKE IT
Sauté your potato and aromatic base. In a large (5 qt or so) dutch oven or soup pot over medium heat, sauté the peeled potato cubes in the olive oil for 2 minutes. Then add the shallot and garlic and cook until lightly beginning to brown, about 1 minute more—normally this isn’t what I want, but it adds a really toasty depth of flavor in an otherwise very vegetal soup.
Build your soup and simmer. Deglaze briefly with the wine. Add the beans, broth, bay leaf, parm rind, chili flakes, and pepper. Stir to combine and lower to a simmer. Let that hang out for about 30 minutes, uncovered or partially covered; it can absolutely go longer if you’ve got something more pressing to do.
Throw in your add-ins. At the 30 minute mark, stir in the kale and ditalini. Cook for as long as the directions on your pasta say to do so.
Finish with a hit of acid. Remove from heat, stir in the lemon juice, and serve topped with extra shaved parm and lemon slices, which are basically soup’s birthday candles.
Bonus time capsule!
This recipe was originally written the night Game of Thrones aired the infamous Purple Wedding episode, and the original description at step 4 read: “Cut your lemon into wedges, perfect for squeezing with all your might as you ragingly count all the incidences of Joffrey being a dick in a single episode. Maul this citrus garnish as a proxy of his face, and realize you might just know the spoiler alert for tonight's premiere after all.”
Observation #1: my intuition is still good, but I have changed.
Observation #2: Game of Thrones is truly special and I need to watch it again soon.