Ingredients:
• Vegetables
• Herbs
• Olive oil
• Water
• Sausage
• Bread
• Milk
• Salt

Directions:
1. Make a paste
2. Cook the paste until it gets hard to stir
3. Add water
4. Add chopped vegetables and simmer
5. Make meatballs
6. Add meatballs
7. Top with grated pecorino and eat

I can hear the groaning already as you ask, “What kind of a recipe is that?” And that, my friends, is part of the lesson.

Lesson 1: Don’t skimp on the olive oil.

My grandmother was almost 103 years old when she died, in her home, with no underlying health issues and no medications. This is what she ate every day of her life: pasta, at least once a day, with marinara sauce; a simple salad of fresh greens, cucumber, a chopped tomato, olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper; a cup of coffee every morning, buttered toast, maybe an egg with salami scrambled in or a slice of bacon; a piece of fresh fruit at least once daily; and meats and vegetables cooked in olive oil. She bought olive oil by the gallon.
I see my family doctor once a year, and he checks my cholesterol. I’m overweight, I eat a diet heavy on meats, fat, and olive oil. I have 2 eggs for breakfast every day, and there are times during Lent when I may eat a half dozen eggs on a Friday. My doctor tells me, “Nobody has an HDL level as good as yours.” Trust me, don’t skimp on the olive oil.
To make the paste, I used olive oil, carrots, celery, and fresh basil leaves. I know that I used 3 carrots because that’s how many were left in the bag. I believe that I used 4 celery stalks. I used a whole clove of garlic. Perhaps you like onions? I don’t, but if you like onions, by all means, use them to make your paste. Use enough olive oil to make a paste. I added basil leaves until I liked the odor.

Lesson 2: Be open to change.

I used a food processor to make the paste. My grandmother had a variety of hand implements that she used for grinding and chopping, including a nut grinding contraption in a jar top and a mortar and pestle.
For most of her life, she reheated food on top of the stove in a pan. Sometime in the 1990s one of her grandchildren gave her a second hand microwave. It was a game changer for Grandma.
My grandmother didn’t have a food processor, but if she did, she would have used it.

Lesson 3: Save everything.

The celery I used had been in a plastic bag in my freezer. It had become too limp to spread with peanut butter, so I tossed it into a gallon size zipper bag that I keep in the freezer. Practically any vegetable that’s past its prime can be repurposed for soup, pesto, or something else. I save the trimmings from asparagus, broccoli, celery, carrots, greens, squash, etc. for making soup stock.
The basil will only be fresh for a few days before it will start to wilt. I don’t dry herbs, but rather, I put them in zip lock bags and toss them in the freezer. Then at some point in the middle of winter, I’ll find a baggie full of fresh frozen basil, and it will feel like a gift from Santa Claus. I take those frozen basil leaves and crumble them into sauce, pesto, meatballs, or anything else that needs fresh basil. Don’t use dried basil. Trust me.
After the paste was finished, I scooped it into my biggest stock pot and turned on the heat. I stirred it with a wooden spoon, and cooked it until it started to be hard to stir with the spoon.

Lesson 4: Don’t beat yourself up for not being perfect.

Did a former Supervisory Public Health Veterinarian seriously just suggest using a wooden spoon? Yes, she did. If you use a metal or plastic spoon to stir the paste, you’ll end up with either a plastic or metallic flavor. If you are concerned about food safety, cheap wooden spoons are readily available at discount stores. You could use it once and toss it, or you could attempt to put it through the dishwasher until it finally falls apart.
I also used a wooden cutting board for chopping my vegetables, just because I don’t have a glass cutting board that’s big enough for large vegetables. However, there is one food safety rule that I don’t break: never use a wooden cutting board for meat.

Lesson 5: Don’t worry about everything being exact. That’s not real life.

I kept a second stock pot on the stove with cold water to add to my paste after it had cooked. I poured in about half a stock pot full of water, stirred, and brought it to a simmer. Then I put the cover on the stock pot while I chopped the vegetables.
What kind of vegetables should you use for the soup? I used scarola, chard, one zucchini, a big bulb of finocchio, and a few sprigs of prezzemolo. I don’t know how many pounds of scarola or chard; I just grabbed one bunch of each. I’m not normally a fan of zucchini in soup, but there’s something about this minestra where the zucchini just works perfectly. Maybe you like spinach or kale? Go for it. Maybe you have some lettuce in the refrigerator that’s a little past prime? Yes, you can cook lettuce, and it goes well with soup. I don’t recommend leaving out the finocchio.

Lesson 6: Enjoy the journey.

It’s time to start adding that mountain of chopped vegetables to the soup. Although the leaves of the finocchio resemble dill, they taste like licorice when eaten raw. I can’t resist this any more than I can resist black jelly beans. This minestra is as fun to make as it is good to eat.
Bring the soup to a simmer again, and put the cover back on.

Lesson 7: Live every day as if a major economic depression is coming.

For the meatballs, I’ll use sweet sausage, an egg, and bread soaked in milk. In the freezer I have a collection of bread bags, each containing the tiny ends of gluten free bread that aren’t big enough to toast or use in sandwiches. I soak these in just enough milk to get them moist. Loose sausage is best, but I used sausage in casings after removing the casings. Most likely the sausage casings were cleaned and processed in China. Although we have a ban on importation of pork products from China due to African Swine Fever and Foot and Mouth Disease, I know from my time working for USDA that we permit exportation of pork casings to China for cleaning, and then allow reimportation of these casings for making sausage in the USA. We know that these casings are USA origin because China promises that they really are from US-origin pigs, and we know that we can trust the Chinese with important details such as the true extent of African Swine Fever and COVID-19 in China – right?

You may have gathered at this point that I have a freezer full of tiny bags, and I do. I save bones for making soup or to flavor sauce. I save chicken carcasses and chicken necks for soup. I learned from the best: my grandmother had the “can” underneath her sink, and nothing went into the can unless every possible edible use had been made of it. The can contained coffee grounds, egg shells, and spent soup bones. And, even these items were repurposed as fertilizer for the garden.
Right now, I still have my job, and I’m still getting paid. I am extremely grateful for my job, a roof over my head, and food on the table. I’m also no fool, and I know that in the midst of the coronavirus crisis, my State is broke and the economy is collapsing. The governor has already announced a pay freeze. If I’m laid off in a few months, I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to serve and for the best job I’ve ever had. I will be grateful that I was taught the skills I need to survive an economic depression by someone who lived through the Great Depression.

Lesson 8: Don’t try to force things together that don’t fit perfectly together.

The meatballs need to be small, and they need to cook in the soup. If you try to do this differently, the meatballs and soup won’t be a perfect union.
My marriage was a disaster. We had some things in common: He was a dairy farmer, and I grew up on a farm and had worked as a dairy veterinarian. Other than that, neither one of us fit into the world of the other. He could be funny, charming, and a gentleman if he felt like it. He was also dumb as a box of rocks, crude, misogynist, and racist. His list of acceptable dinners included meat, potatoes, and seasoning salt. Whenever I tried to cook a meal that my son and I would enjoy, he referred to it as “guinea food.” He was incapable of having an intelligent conversation about anything. He mixed like oil and water with my family and my faith. Although he had had been divorced for over a decade, he still maintained an unhealthy attachment to his ex-wife including financial entanglements. He would shout or blurt out rude, insensitive remarks to my family and friends and then forget about it. My family and friends had longer memories than that.
The only time that we got along well was when we were alone. Even though he didn’t fit into any other part of my life, I tried to get the meatballs and the soup to complement each other. It didn’t work.
Don’t make the meatballs too big, and don’t brown them before putting them in the pot; there’s no seasoning in them, and they need to absorb the flavor of the soup.

Lesson 9: You can judge a book by its cover.

This morning I brought a piece of ricotta pie and some taralli to my neighbor, and we did the arms-extended-faces-turned-away passing of the plate. She’s been very good to me during the stay at home order; she always asks if I need anything when she has to go to the store, and she scored a package of toilet paper for me a couple of weeks ago. I knew the moment I met her that she was a good person and she would be a good neighbor.
This has nothing to do with the minestra, but it does bring me to the next important lesson.

Lesson 10: Take time to shower and change your clothes during the quarantine.

When my neighbor brought me a bowl of fresh fruit salad, and I was still in my bathrobe, and she asked me if I was well, then I knew it was time to shower and change into my day nightgown.
While I was in the shower, I let the meatballs simmer in the soup.

Lesson 11: Take your time.

There’s no hurry for the soup or the meatballs. Let it simmer. The meatballs won’t over-cook. The soup won’t over cook. They’re both happily simmering together, each absorbing the flavor of the other. The only way that you can screw this up is if you try to cook it too hot and too fast.

Lesson 12: Don’t presume to know the ending….but plan ahead.

The very last thing that I add to the stock pot is salt. Sometimes when I make soup, I don’t need to add any salt at all. This time I poured some into the palm of my hand. I’m not sure, but I believe in the English measurement system the “palm” is equivalent to roughly one tablespoon.
I have had this website for years. You may have noticed the there was a long drought in posts between 2017 and 2020. My ex-husband used to ask, “What the hell do you need a website for?” At times I used to ask myself, “Why am I paying for web hosting on a site that I’m not using?” “What am I going to do with Janes-world.net?”
My friend and mentor Donna, my “adultier-adult”, introduced me to Chris Guillebeau last year and his daily side hustle podcast. I realized through listening to Chris that I could do many things with this website if I so choose. I could start a business selling things such as braided rugs that I can sew by hand, that would take a year to make, and then I might be able to pay myself a penny an hour if I could sell one. I could paint pretty pictures of birds on garbage cans and sell them. (Lately I seem to have a fascination with finding a little trash bin with a bird painting on it, but I just can’t seem to find the right one.) I could write guest blogs for other bloggers and then try to redirect some of that traffic back to Janes-world to sell google ads. I could direct traffic to my online AVON store to get more sales. Or, I could just continue to write stories about cats or whatever else I choose to write about. The point is, the door is still open, and I never know what direction life will take me next.
Remember before adding the salt that if you serve the minestra with pecorino Romano, the cheese is also salty. After the salt has been added, give the pot a stir and one final taste before ladling it into a bowl. Grate a generous portion of pecorino on top and serve immediately.

Lesson 13: Don’t skimp on the pecorino.

Yes, you paid $20 per pound for that wedge of heaven to come across the ocean from Italy, pass USDA inspection, pass through a warehouse or two before ultimately ending up at the supermarket. Nevertheless, pecorino goes with this minestra like ice cream goes with hot apple pie. Enjoy this experience.
Indulge, but remember to take care of that pecorino. It likely took some abuse at the grocery store where they cut it into hunks and packaged it in plastic. Immediately get it out of that plastic when you buy it, and wrap it in plain white or brown paper. If it starts to dry out, wrap it in a moist piece of paper to make it easier to grate. And don’t forget to save the rind and the tiny hunks of cheese that fall out of the mouli; you never know when you may need these to flavor a minestra.

Buona Pasqua