Happiness is a warm bowl of minestrone

Technically, I broke in my newest kitchen toy, a beautiful 6 quart Staub enameled cast iron pot, with the no-knead bread. But since that loaf turned out much more like a rock than expected, I will erase that from the official records and say instead that this absolutely wonderful soup is the Staub's first food product .

Why on earth does it matter what I cook as a first meal in this thing? Well, it matters, because I had been deliberating on this rather large purchase for what seems like forever. Ever since I read about it on my very favorite food blog quite a few years ago I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Le Creuset or Lodge or any other brand aside, I knew that I could have no other.

But now that I have it in my kitchen, I honestly can't figure out why it took me so long to get it. Having a really big heavy pot ROCKS. I can keep adding random stuff from my freezer in it and IT WON'T OVERFLOW. As an added bonus, the heavy material allows the contents to heat evenly and I don't have to continuously stir the contents until my arms falls off. And now that it's officially autumn, I can make as much soup as my heart desires and not worry about having to leave the stove on for hours, which is the time required to cook almost anything in this magnificent beast.

I recently discovered the cookbook section of the DC public library and have been eagerly checking out new cookbooks ever since. The only problem with this system is that lugging big cookbooks such as the NYT one from the library to my apartment is pretty hard work. That's why I ended up taking the light and carry-able New Moosewood Cookbook with me. Almost all of the recipes in this book are simple but delicious sounding vegetarian dishes.

I was looking for a good, hearty soup, and this recipe is definitely it. I think many sub-par minestrone tend to taste too much like canned tomato sauce, but the fresh tomato in this recipe solves that problem without sacrificing tomato flavor. The original recipe also called for celery and eggplant but I didn't have them on hand at the time. Lastly, I un-vegetarianed this recipe by adding a cup of chicken stock and some chicken tenders, both of which can be easily omitted.

Black bean soup

For many years, my go-to black bean soup has always been super simple: saute onions, garlic, and cumin in oil, dump a can of black beans in pot, simmer and consume.

Not any more. Now that I've upgraded my bean cooking technique, I'm upgrading my bean soup recipe as well.

This black bean soup is awesome. It's loaded with vegetables, which brighten the flavor and appearance by a whole lot (not that you can tell from my terrible picture). The reconstituted beans  give it a less homogeneous texture than if it were made from canned beans. And it's so filling. Holy moly, I had a medium-sized bowl full and I was stuffed. Gotta love legumes.

Beer-glazed beans

Aside from my immersion blender, I also received Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything Vegetarian. Not only is it an excellent cookbook, it also makes for nice bedtime reading.

I've spent the most time on the legume section, which offers a convincing argument for buying dried beans and reconstituting them yourself instead of relying on canned beans. I recently did that with a pound of pinto beans and cooked some in a dish of roasted cipollini onions, tomatoes and beans. Having cooked with canned beans for as long as I can remember, the difference is phenomenal. Instead of a homogeneously mushy glob of starch, these beans have a firm but creamy interior that's enveloped by a nice and intact skin that offers just enough chew and texture. What's more is that they don't taste like the bland and slightly metallic liquid that they've been sitting in for goodness knows how long. They taste like, dare I say it, real beans.



Aside from the taste factor, this process is also dead easy: start by soaking your beans in cold water in the morning. After 8-12 hours, if they're softened, salt and then simmer your beans until they're tender and cooked. If not, simmer until they're soft, add salt, and continue to simmer until tender. I got about 6 cups, or four 14-oz cans worth, from a pound of dried beans. You can freeze whatever beans you don't use in their cooking liquid with no loss of texture, making this process just as convenient as buying canned beans.

Yesterday I made some beer-glazed beans from the cookbook. Between all my adventures adding booze to desserts and a few recent recipes that calls for beer in soups, I'm convinced that alcohol, when used appropriately, always makes food tastier. This dish is like a two-ingredient chili, with a nice earthy flavor from the chili powder and a slight sweetness from the beer and honey.