Cranberry Bean and Farro Soup

I don’t think anyone would ever accuse me of being a daredevil. I’m not jumping out of an airplane anytime soon; I won’t even ask that mother in the row behind me on the airplane to please ask her four-year-old to stop rhythmically kicking my seatback like it’s done him wrong. But when it comes to cookbooks, I can’t help but play a game of truth or dare with the author.

Okay, TRUTH: That soup looks pretty gross. There’s no way it’s not kinda gross, right?

Okay, fine, DARE: Yeah, I’m obviously gonna make that soup.

Now let me just clarify, for those of you lovelies who are considering coming over for dinner sometime soon: I wouldn’t do this to you. There are plenty of soups I’ve never tried that are clearly going to be good. But when I don’t need a sure thing, why not take a chance? There’s so much joy to be found in trying something that sounds nasty but ends up being a delicious surprise, which has happened a few times. Just not necessarily this time.

Drown your disappointment in this pretty salad! It's Saladuary now!

And it’s not that this was anywhere close to inedible; it was fine to mediocre. I’m not going to look back on this one with hungry eyes and start salivating at the thought of a hot bean smoothie (which – there’s no way that’s not a euphemism).

In its defense, this soup was better the next day, actually tasting brighter, richer and fresher as it aged. A regular BEANjamin Button, if you will. 

My complaint though is this: sure, I’ve already demonstrated a predilection toward trying these weird recipes, but I think the author engaged in a bit of trickery. He described this soup having the "guise of decadence," when really it’s just sooooo beany. But why would a bean be decadent? That’s totally unnecessary. Let’s call this soup what it is: healthy, beany, a little bland.

The author went so far as to implore the reader to not cut the batch in half, but to freeze any leftovers as you’ll want to have it on hand. Agree to disagree, sir. Of course, as a classic non-daredevil rule-follower, I did go ahead and freeze the leftovers. OMG can’t wait to throw those away in six months!

With the author’s focus on healthful food (which I of course do appreciate), I’m going to assume the guy isn’t trying to deliberately trick anyone. Maybe he just hasn’t had real decadence in so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like, that he’s basically a vegan insisting cheez tastes exactly like the real thing.

So many ingredients, so little taste!

The farro, though, that grain is a dang winner. Farro has the best texture and I don’t use it nearly enough. I’ve been stuck on the word toothsome lately, and that’s exactly what it is. Toothsome, babes.

In the end, a generous hand with seasoning and the idea to throw in some sherry vinegar saved this concoction from a deadly overdose of boredom. But that's only because I was determined to rescue it by any beans necessary. Iseewhatshedidthere.

The cover of my new kids' book: The Little Beans That Couldn't.

I know how important honesty is to the Internet, so I won't be recommending this one. You have limited days on this earth (BREAKING NEWS) and there are simply better things to eat. Don't waste a meal on this; I did that for you. #soupmartyr #yourewelcome #hotbeansmoothie

In summation, action items coming out of this experiment are as follows:

•  Devise a more exciting delivery vehicle for farro.
• Take a break from truth or dare (unless currently at a ladies' night, in which case, bring it on).
• Remove phrase “hot bean smoothie” from lexicon.

Cranberry Bean and Farro Soup

Serves a lot. Adapted from A Good Food Day by Marco Canora.

Including the recipe here solely because I follow the rules (that I made up).

1 lb. dried cranberry beans, soaked overnight
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more to serve
2 onions, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
8 cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed
3 stalks of celery, chopped
3 anchovy fillets (optional, of course - I used them because I had them and they were in the recipe, but they seemed to have little to no impact on the final taste of the soup)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
10 cups of water
5 sprigs of thyme, tied with kitchen string or with one of the sprigs, plus more to serve
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
cooked farro, about 1/4 cup per person
parmigiano reggiano, grated

Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in a large pot (you’re going to be adding 10 cups of water plus all your other ingredients, so make sure it’s a big’un). Add onions, celery, carrot, garlic and anchovies (if using), and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes or until you’ve got some good browning going.

Add tomato paste, stir to incorporate, and turn heat down to medium-low. Cook an additional 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Drain and rinse your soaked beans, then add them to the pot along with 10 cups of water, thyme sprigs and a few big pinches of salt. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for an hour, or until beans are tender.

Remove thyme and blend soup in batches or with an immersion blender until completely smooth. Stir in sherry vinegar and taste, adding more salt if necessary.

To serve, put ¼ cup farro in bowl and ladle soup over it. Top with thyme leaves and grated parmigiano reggiano, along with a drizzle of good extra virgin olive oil.