As you can see, I survived. And so did my blog. Thanks to my friend Nicolee for pretty much giving up sleep the last week to bring me into the WordPress fold, I’ve arrived with almost no hiccups. There’s lots of new bells and whistles that I haven’t quite figured out yet (recipe and restaurant sections, specially formatted recipes, etc) so please have patience while I get used to this brave new world. Most of the links are working, but you may still get the odd ‘error’ message. I think I’ve got the comment section working now, so please do let me know what you think, and if any particularly big bugs stand out make sure you tell me.
Rather than stay tied to my computer this past weekend, tweaking and anxiously checking on the transfer, I headed out to Todi with a houseful of friends. While Domenico played with his friends pruning all of our fruit trees, I took walks in the woods looking for wild asparagus, listened to Gillian’s son play the guitar and – of course - cooked up a storm. All of which managed to take my mind off things digital (I left that to Nicolee).
Whenever we have a full house, soup usually makes an appearance, and this weekend it was bean soup. I brought up a gorgeous bag of beans that I’d bought at DOL Bottega del Gusto. Mustard yellow in color, I grabbed them off the shelf because they were so pretty. And sorry, but I have to admit I have no idea what they are called. I put them to soak on Friday evening, after having enjoyed too many glasses of wine, and threw away the label. They are definitely from Lazio, that much I can tell you. Like all beans, they turned a pinky beige color when cooked, so I am giving you free range in the bean-choosing department for this recipe. But please. Use dried beans, not canned. Especially for this soup, which is minimal, it makes all the difference.
The rest of the soup was made up of what I could scavenge from the vegetable garden. It’s a sad sight these days, twixt winter and spring. Not much left to pick, but I did manage to find enough Swiss chard to turn the bag of beans into a huge pot of soup, big enough to feed everyone.
Seasonings were harvested too. A few sprigs of rosemary and a couple of bay leaves.
Since the chard had wintered over, and survived many frosts, it was incredibly flavorful. So flavor-packed that there was no need for stock or bouillon. The chard, along with the cooking liquid from the beans, made their own rich, green broth.
After a calming bowl of this soup (with some amazing cheeses and cured meats, also from DOL) more wine, a nap and another long walk I finally checked back in with my blog.
Which had miraculously survived the jump off the cliff.
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