Lentils, lentils lentils (and a soup with Tuscan kale and pancetta turns into a warm winter salad with oranges)

 

 

Lentils are small, lentils are round,
lentils are red, yellow and brown.

I like them in soups and burgers for sure,
I love them as curry, vegan and more!

I like them warm, I like them cold,
I like them fried or a couple days old.

They make sense as a snack, they are perfect in salad,
I love them, adore them and wrote them this ballad.

There may be no scoop
on lentils in soup,
but they still make you want
to jump through a hoop!

And just in case you don't already know,
here are two things about them before you go:
Thing 1: protein, fiber and iron make them healthy,
Thing 2: Italians believe they make you wealthy.

Just try them,
just eat them,
just have some already.
They are good, they are great,
it is never too late!

 

I admit my reading several Dr. Seuss books to my son last night contributed to this post, but lentils also just happen to be something I get childishly excited about.

 

Yesterday, like so many other times, I cleaned a big, bright orange carrot, I cut a couple of stalks of celery, peeled a clove or garlic and an onion and prepared a mirepoix which I sauteed in some olive oil until the little chunks turned shiny and translucent. I added a bay leaf, and a handful of diced pancetta and let it brown slightly before adding the rinsed lentils and water. I lowered the flame, covered the pot and let the magic begin.

 

 

 

A couple of hours and few more cups of water later, the lentils were soft yet still slightly toothsome, the water had turned into a dark, earthy, savory broth and the kitchen was warm and smelled delicious. I added a good pinch of salt and some chopped up Tuscan kale (but you can use spinach, Swiss chard or any other leafy green).

I seasoned it with plenty of freshly ground black pepper and a good glug of extra virgin olive oil. Sometimes I will add some grated Parmesan cheese, but this time it was perfect just the way it was, those little nuggets of smokey goodness from the pancetta satisfying me one hundred percent.

 

The left over soup turned into a delicious salad for lunch, so much so that I am still wondering why I never paired oranges and lentils before. Think slightly warm lentil quenelles,  the chew from the pancetta and the cool sweetness of the orange segments, highlighted by their zest. I think some crumbled feta cheese, small black olives or thinly sliced red onion - perhaps pickled? - would work great in this too.

Healthy.
Delicious.
Filling.

So before I go all Dr. Seuss on you again, just go and make some!

Zuppa di pasta, ceci e cavolo nero or hearty chickpea stew with Tuscan kale and pasta

 

 

The recipe I am posting about today is my personal mishmash of two very traditional Italian recipes: pasta e ceci, a less-known version of the more internationally renowned pasta e fagioli, and minestra di ceci con cavolo nero, a soup that is often served with large, crusty slices of bread rubbed with garlic.

 

The chickpea, or garbanzo bean, is undeniably the star of the show here. This humble legume has been used by most cultures for millenia, the first discovered remains dating back to the Neolithic period. Thanks to the Greeks, the Etruscans and the Romans chickpeas became an integral part of Italian cooking. I admit I find it comforting to think of all the generations that prepared variations of this stew over the centuries. How many mothers and grandmothers served warm, filling bowls of chickpeas and black kale to their hardworking families, perhaps ladled over stale pieces of bread?

 

 

 

 

But back to our recipe.

 

The first, essential step in making both the abovementioned Italian classics is the same: you must remember to soak the chickpeas for at least 12 hours. If it weren't for that one little step, I would probably make this dish much more often that I actually do.  

 

After this, preparations vary. For pasta e ceci (or fagioli) you would normally prepare a soffritto (a mirepoix of carrots, celery and onion) and add some tomato in one form or another (paste, sauce, crushed). When making the soup, some opt for a soffritto, but in most versions the intent is to keep things very basic, letting the flavor of the legumes shine through. You just sautee the garlic (either whole or minced) in olive oil, add some finely chopped shallot or onion and a sprig of rosemary (if you are so inclined), tomatoes never making an appearance.

 

 

 

 

The pureed chickpeas and starch from the pasta guarantee an end result that is as comforting and creamy as any pasta and ceci should be. The wilted, dark and slightly bitter kale leaves however add some much-needed texture and contrast to a dish that is as delicious, soothing and - let's face it -boring as some of the best nursery suppers can be. A good glug of intensely green, fruity, peppery olive oil, lots of freshly ground black pepper and a hefty sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese will further convince you (if you are still in the least bit doubtful) that this is food fit for grown ups.