Ribollita with Poached Eggs and Kale Pesto

I've never met a poached egg I didn't like. 

My sister clipped this recipe for me and tucked it in a card sometime last year. Since then, it's lived among kids' drawings and pictures of friends' babies on the fridge door, held in place by this most excellent magnet also given to me by my sister. She's just a very good sister.

So rather than making this soup in a non-February month (pfft, who does that?), I've been seeing it staring at me every time I've opened the refrigerator for the better part of a year. And I open the refrigerator pretty often; it's where I keep my cheese.

Ribollita literally means "reboiled," which is all the evidence needed to prove that Italian is so much tastier sounding than English that it's criminally unfair. You simply should not be able to say "reboiled" and have it sound at all appetizing. It's not natural.

But, nasty translation issues aside, this is a hearty, filling soup that makes you feel nourished and cared for. It's no wonder that its roots are in peasant food; it tastes ancient and earthy. It's fuel, plain and simple. There are no tricks here, no surprises. It tastes like vegetables. And there's not a thing wrong with that. 

Or in Logan's words, "Does this soup have all the vegetables?" Yes. Yes, it does.

I used dry cannelini beans because (a) that's what was in my pantry and (b) I wasn't in any sort of a hurry. It's a Monday night — I've got all the time in the world to let beans sit in a pot while I rewatch season one of 30 Rock do adult things like cleaning and taxes and worrying. I like the bit of extra body that is imbued into the broth from the act of cooking the beans in it, but canned beans would have worked just fine, too. Canned beans also would have shaved 3 hours off the cooking time. If I were making this because I was sick and needed to feel better immediately (which I totally would), canned-elini every time.

This is a great way to use old bread — I had a quarter of a Blue Oven hubcap left over from Saturday that was so hard it barely budged under my killer bread knife. In the bottom of the soup bowl, that bread was given new life. Nothing like feeling like a magician on a Monday night. 

One more note: you could absolutely make this without the kale pesto — that was just me getting fancy. But it added a bit of fresh, garlicky, pungent brightness to the broth, and it looked pretty. And, as G.I. Joe always said, looking pretty is half the battle.*

Ribollita
Adapted from a recipe clipped from an unknown magazine
Serves 8

GET THIS STUFF

For the soup:
6 oz. dry cannelini beans (or one can, drained and rinsed, in which case skip all the stuff about beans)
8 cups vegetable broth
1 large shallot, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
2 carrots, sliced into half moons
2 stalks of celery, sliced
1 Yukon Gold potato, scrubbed and diced
1 cup of diced tomatoes (I used drained canned San Marzanos)
1/4 of a head of green cabbage, thinly sliced
1/2 bunch of Tuscan kale, ribs removed, leaves sliced into ribbons
A handful of Italian parsley leaves, roughly chopped
A 2-inch piece of Parmesan rind
1 slice of stale bread per person
1 egg per person

For the kale pesto:
1/2 bunch of Tuscan kale, ribs removed
juice from half a lemon
A handful of walnuts, toasted
A handful of grated Parmesan
Olive oil

DO THIS WITH IT 

If you are more prepared than I, you can put your beans in a big bowl to soak in tap water the night before. But I just did a quick soak — cover the beans in boiling water, cover the bowl, and wait an hour. Drain and rinse the beans, then put them in your soup pot with the vegetable broth. Bring to a simmer and cook for two hours or until cooked through.

Add Parmesan rind, shallots, garlic, carrots, celery, potato, and tomatoes, and simmer, uncovered, for about 10 minutes. 

Add kale, cabbage and parsley, and simmer for another 10 minutes or so, until all vegetables are cooked though.

Meanwhile, make your pesto: Throw kale, lemon juice, walnuts and Parmesan in a food processor, then drizzle in some olive oil as it's spinning until you get the consistency you like (I don't like mine to be super oily).


Poach as many eggs as people you'll be serving. Everyone seems to have their own method, but this is how I do it: Bring a small pot of water just to a boil, and add a dash of white vinegar. Swirl the water into a whirlpool, and drop in one egg. About 45 seconds later, fish it out with a slotted spoon and transfer to a plate. Repeat for each egg. 

Remove Parmesan rind from soup, and season to taste with salt and pepper. 

Place a slice of bread in the bottom of each bowl, and ladle soup on top. Top each bowl with a poached egg and some pesto.

*Yeah, I might not have that quote exactly right.