Comforting Kale, Leek and Farro Soup

The Mondayest of soups, no tea no shade. Lemme splain.

The negotiations we make with ourselves when we’re tired/grouchy/hungry etc. will never cease to amuse me. After a busy day at work that followed another night of questionable sleep, I walked into my apartment and stared down my favorite reusable shopping bag. It was waiting by the door for me to trot it up to the grocery. “I’ve been so empty and lonely lately,” it complained, trying to guilt me into filling it with fresh purchases. I’m not responsible for your existential crisis, bag!

Cold, tired, hungry me started in on the mental math: Guilt plus current step deficit on my Fitbit divided by the current rate of decrease in brain functionality due to hunger pangs multiplied by the amount of time it would take to get to the grocery and back, uhhhhh, okay so I was never that great at math. I do know, though, that it took me about 6 seconds to give up on that calculation and decide that SURELY there had to be a recipe somewhere in my cookbook collection that I could bend to fit the contents of my fridge and pantry.

The revelation here, much like the undisputed but oft-ignored fact that it takes just as long to get take-out as it would to just cook something already, is that I definitely could have gone to the store and back in the time it took me to flip through 6 different beautiful tomes looking for inspiration. There’s something about gorgeous food photography that tends to make me less hungry; they do say you eat with your eyes, but maybe my imagination is a little too strong. I meandered through salads and apps, mains and sides, faux-feasting and daydreaming futures for out-of-season vegetables for a good 45 minutes before happening upon this recipe.

I also paged through a quite delightful but not terribly appetizing vintage soup pamphlet that was given to me by my friends Aaron and Julie. I swear I’m going to make good and try one of these mysterious concoctions at some point. Tonight was not that night.

#beefjuice

But you know, had it not been for my intractable desire to not leave my apartment, I may never have tried this humble little soup, either. And though I’ve been giving my illogical decision making a bit of a hard time above, I’m fully standing by my decision. Not only was it a fun game of ingredient Password (you say cabbage, I say kale; you say onion, I say leek), but it’s a nice bowl of food that demonstrates the need for teamwork. Had I given myself this Chopped basket sans the outside input of Joshua McFadden, I don’t know that I would have come up with something as good. That’s mostly due to a splishy-splash of one secret ingredient: vinegar.

I’ve used vinegar to finish a soup before, but not throughout the simmering process. I assumed something bad would happen if I put it on the heat: Would the soup pickle? That doesn’t sound “comforting,” as promised by the recipe’s title. Trying a new thing, even something as small as two teaspoons of champagne vinegar, can be scary. The weird part is that I can’t define why it’s scary, as I’ve never regretted a new-thing experience (searching my memory database right now to think of an exception, but no – even that South African Elton John cover band was worthwhile). Trusting this recipe was certainly no exception – the vinegar, along with the lemon juice, completely sets it apart. I’ll admit the results look a bit murky and boring, but looks can be deceiving. It tasted bright and clean, but pleasantly unchallenging as well. Pretty much all you can ask for from a Monday-soup, IMHO. Maybe the acid from the vinegar helps to soften up the kale even more, eh? That sounds believably science-ish.

Another fun new technique: Toasting the farro prior to adding it to the soup. This keeps the final texture a bit more contains and adds a nuttiness that really cozies up to the Parmigiano quite nicely. And a bonus: While you’re toasting it, it smells just like roasted nuts. I adore a good magic trick.

Since at this point in my life I derive most of my excitement from food (as if the previous statement did not make this clause redundant), I tend to be a bit of a magpie: distracted by the shiny, the trendy, the technicolor. This soup may have clipped my magpie wings, but it’s good to come down to earth now and then. A solid, earthy, hearty but light and — yes — comforting exercise in stubbornness and substitution. 

Comforting Kale, Leek and Farro Soup

Serves 2

Adapted from Joshua McFadden’s Six Seasons: A New Way with Vegetables

extra virgin olive oil

1 leek, white and light green parts thinly sliced

1/2 bunch of lacinato kale, ribs removed and leaves sliced into ~1/4” ribbons

2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed

1 sprig rosemary

2 teaspoons champagne vinegar

1/3 cup farro

2 cups vegetable or chicken broth (used my usual Better than Bouillon No-Chicken base)

juice of half a lemon

shaved Parmigiano Reggiano

Heat a good splash of olive oil (a tablespoon-ish) in a pot over medium heat and add leeks along with a pinch of salt and a few grinds of black pepper.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until it starts to soften, about 5 minutes. Add kale, garlic and rosemary, stir, and cover until it’s all very soft – about 20 minutes. Add vinegar, taste for seasoning, and cover for a few more minutes while you toast the farro.

Heat about a teaspoon of olive oil in a small pan over medium heat. Add the farro and toast, stirring, until golden and crisped but not burnt. Add the farro to your pot of vegetables along with broth, and bring to a simmer for 25 minutes or until farro is tender.

Remove from heat, remove and discard rosemary sprig, and stir in lemon juice. Serve topped with a drizzle of olive oil, Parmigiano Reggiano and black pepper.