Friday, March 3


hey guys!
ribollita means 'reboiled',
and the whole point of it is to make yesterday's soup into today's new hottness.
that's real.
turns out,
if the true-life tales and histories of recipes are to be believed,
italian people pretty much spent most of the last few thousand years
being really F*ing poor.
i don't use precise recipes.
that's not my thing.
i've got a sensitive intuitive nature when it comes to food.
if i've only half-heard-of something,
i'm not at all ashamed to say i'll look into it,
before i go on ahead and discard and disregard the cups and teaspoons
that follow the description.
i know you guys do the same damned thing over here.
did you know that i've not ever seen even one example of somebody making
the stuff i'm detailing here?
i've got my dudes out there using basic guidelines, for sure-
i haven't gotten any evidence that what i'm making is also what you're making.
womp womp.
it's cool, neighbors.
i do it, you do it, we do it, and it's all really happening anyway, like it or not.
i'm doing my thing for the lion-maned mess that is early march.
marzo italiano, man,
we've discussed before how i don't necessarily feel connected to italian food.
if i'm being honest (and i always am),
i think that those first few years of veganism were marred somewhat
by the family-style carcass onslaught that my relatives
seemed to swallow and wallow and bask and bathe in..
i've never seen more cheese and milk, and beef and pork,
in every imaginable form of deconstruction....
i guess i've sort of associated italian-american cookin'
with the softly anti-vegan sentiments of that initial decade.
it's been a loooong time since, so it's well past high time to get over it.
and it's absolutely the right time to get after it.
i gotta get busy in this kitchen, making all that marinara,
and even more magical mama-mia-masterpieces,
in the style of ancestral poverty,
but with the luxurious wealthy wizardry of Folk Life & Liberty.
word up.
with the goal of ribollita as my objective,
i made a soup wednesday,
to reheat on thursday,
with all the add-ins and upgrades ready to go.
it isn't leftovers if you didn't eat any when it was brand spankin' new.
check it out:

why is soup so good??!!!
this one had that thickness on point,
and that only made it better for my situation.
it's terribly effing windy.
ah, ahhhhh, ugh. how i hate the wind!!!!
and it's the kind that's so blustery that it somehow penetrates
the walls and windows of the Folk Life &Liberty Fortress,
so it's presence is felt INside these warm rooms, too.
yuck, man. yuck SO flippin' hard.
which is why having a super thick, hearty soup for dinner was perfect timing.
soup is easy.
that's one of the things that's cool about it.
put some veggies in a bath for a while, and there you go.
in this case there was a bit more to it, but not much...
half an onion, minced;
1/4 cup diced carrot;
two cloves of sliced garlic;
sauteed in oil,
and deglazed with a tablespoon ofred wine vinegar.
1 can stewed tomatoes, coarsely chopped, + the juice;
3/4 cup beans. i  had those kidney jauns left over from ghormeh sabzi night,
so those got elected to go deep into the heart of the sopa;
a cup of broth;
some parsley, sage, oregano, salt, black pepper, and basil;
two tablespoons of nootch;
a generous dousing of GPOP,
and a low and slow simmer for while,
as i was busying myself with cakes and tarts and what-have-yous.
could that be easier?
i doubt it.
a few hours later,
as i finished twirling my 'ccine around a fork,
i took a minute to pack up the soup, and let it chill out for 24 hours.
which brings us to the reboil, bruh!
heated back up to temp,
with the addition of a cup of baby kale,
and half a cup of cooked farro!!!!
kale tomato and beans, that's the team, kids.
the farro just served as a windbreaker, really
although i guess the beans did too.
oh. c'mon.
served over a huge slice of fresh-baked homemade white mountain sourdough?
rules is rules.
without bread, your whole plan falls apart.
italians and carbohydrates are conjoined twins.
that's science.
....and you wouldn't want to eat it ugly, wouldja?
no way.
so, i prettied it up with a garnish explosion!
baby basil tips!
radiccio ribbons!!
fresh kale!!!
parsley sprankles!!!!
shredded scallion strips!!!!!
too much is the right amount.
that means exxxtra bread.
i'd have done that sort of thing anyway.
just two days of reppin' italian-style food,
and i can already feel the lycanthropic lycopene infusing my cells.
i have a feeling that the latent gesticulating hand movements,
and an increase in my already loud, fresh, hard volume,
are about to initiate some omega-level protocols.
i'll wager i've increased the rate at which i say 'not-fer-nuthin' 2000%
since my very first bite of wednesday's wheatball.....
and it's only going to get worse- or better, depending on your point of view.
maybe that's all that's been missing?
could this be my mood stabilizer?
my supersoldier serum?
my SAUCE??
like a vampire who won't die without blood, because they can't or whatever,
but who will be weakened considerably by the lack thereof.....
maybe my garlic, tomato, and olive oil infused furioso incendio
has been in remission,
and a massive blast of florentine fiammata is all it'll take for
all that capitoline wolfen worthy warrior poetry to shake free
and take the first half of march allllll the way to eleven.
i can feel it, kids.
i know, i KNOW...
who'd have thought that poor person food would be the recharge i needed??
it's a plot twist,
if i'm better off for all this bread and tomato?
i think i'll have to adapt and overcome.
this is it.
marzo italiano is now a thing.
never quiet, never soft.....

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