What I Did for Love

 What’s cooking? Lemony White Bean Soup with Turkey and Greens

■ In the early days of lockdown, my friend Gail – along with so many other bakers and even non-bakers – decided that what she’d do to occupy herself was to bake bread, for family and friends alike. But she needed flour. There was none to be had at the local grocery store, and she has a pre-existing condition that limited her ability to shop around. Well, if she needed flour, then the love of her life would by God get her some. From Costco. He called her from the store with just one question: “You want the 25-pound bag or the 50-pound bag?”

This is a quarter of our delivery.

■ At my own house a year ago, we were relatively unprepared for the impact of the stay-at-home orders, especially on our supply of popcorn, which had recently become my snack du jour. So my prince took it upon himself to order some from amazon. A couple of days later, a large carton showed up on our porch, holding a dozen boxes of microwaveable popcorn, each box holding 12 individual packages. “I didn’t mean to order so much,” he said. So we contemplated where to store it all and how long it might take us to consume 144 bags of popcorn. The next day, I noticed another large carton from amazon at our door. What now? I thought. Why, it was another 12 boxes of popcorn. “I was so excited, I must have clicked twice on the ‘Buy Now’ button,” he said.

■ When the power went out at my friend Joy’s apartment during the Texas Winter Wipeout, one of the concerns she and her hubby faced was the inability to grind beans for their ritual daily coffee. In a quintessentially masculine approach, her darling husband realized he didn’t need no stinking grinder – a dishtowel and ...a pizza roller? Too hard to control. How about a crab mallet? Yes, a crab mallet would do the trick. And it did. Sort of. The coffee was a little weaker than they were used to, but any port in a storm, as they say. The more memorable effect was the tiny bits of coffee “dust” that covered the floor and counters of the kitchen. Joy said it added a “Turkish coffee bar” ambience to the experience.

But for the fact that we are still working through our supply of microwave popcorn, I’m going to miss some of these quirks of behavior that this past year has engendered. Those gestures that say, “I love you so much I’m going to smash coffee beans on your kitchen counter so you can have your cup of Joe” or “I’ll haul 25 pounds of flour home for you” – those are the gifts that mean much more than a bunch of flowers or a piece of jewelry.

The overnight shift in the ICU.

For my own part, I’ve been making cookies: since last March, I calculate 71 dozen. Most for my grandchildren, but many for my son and the ICU nurses he works with, quite a few for friends, even some for a group of women golfers. We all have our ways to say “I care.”

Along with the rest of you, I’m still cooking more than I used to. But the Kitchen Goddess has actually enjoyed having the time to peruse her many sources of recipes, and not a few of the results have been fun and delicious. What I’ve lacked for is stories – really, how much interesting has been happening in your life? – which is why so few of those recipes have made it into blog posts. It has only recently occurred to me that maybe I don’t have to have a long story, so I’m going to see what I can do to streamline the delivery of some really excellent dishes to you.

The first is today’s Lemony White Bean Soup with Turkey and Greens, from Melissa Clark of The New York Times. Imagine this: we’ve passed the vernal equinox, so spring is nominally here. But it’s still frosty and gray in the early morning. You wake up warm and cozy under your comforter, and as you’re considering the day, the sun makes a sudden appearance and within minutes, the birds are chirping outside your window. That’s this soup. What might otherwise be your basic combo of “beans + meat” is brought smartly into the season by a splash of lemon and a bunch of fresh herbs stirred in at the end.

Ms. Clark maintains that the time it takes to make this dish is 45 minutes. Phooey. This is a subject on which the Kitchen Goddess gets..., well, irate. In the world of food journalists and professional recipe developers, it is common to offer “cooking time” estimates that ignore the time it takes to gather the ingredients, dice the onion and the carrot, mince the garlic, grate the ginger, rinse the beans, chop the herbs, and squeeze the lemon juice.

How do those people expect the work gets done? In their own home kitchens, do they arrive to find the ingredients magically pulled from the pantry or fridge and nicely arranged with knives and cutting boards already out? Do they have husbands/lovers/children/other friends or relatives who routinely sprint to the kitchen to offer assistance? In my house, I have a loving mate who, while not actually eager to help, is willing and attentive to the fact that dinner will appear sooner if he pitches in; but then I have to add back the time it takes to explain his part in the production and what/where the tools are for executing said part. And the Kitchen Goddess admittedly gets occasionally distracted and a bit over focused on tasks like ribboning the greens. (That’s just the way she likes them, so she deals with it.) But the idea that anyone could walk into the kitchen and 45 minutes later have this delectable dish is, well, stupid.

Ok, the KG is going to take a breath now. What Ms. Clark means is that, once you have gathered your tools and ingredients and done the chopping and squeezing and mincing and grating... THEN it takes 45 minutes. So I routinely add another hour. But this dish is so worth it.

Lemony White Bean Soup With Turkey and Greens

Adapted from Melissa Clark in The New York Times

Serves 4.

Mise en place, y’all. And only 45 minutes from here.

Ingredients
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, diced
1 large carrot, diced
1 large bunch hearty greens (collard greens, kale, broccoli rabe, mustard greens)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
¾ teaspoon ground cumin, plus some at end to taste
½ teaspoon Aleppo pepper (can substitute ⅛ teaspoon chili pepper flakes)
½ pound ground turkey
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more at end to taste
1 quart chicken stock
2 cans white beans, drained and rinsed (15-ounce cans or 19-ounce cans, makes no difference)
1 cup chopped fresh, soft herbs (parsley, mint, cilantro, dill, basil, tarragon, chives or a combination – I used parsley, mint, dill, and cilantro)
Juice of a whole lemon (regular or Meyer lemon)

Directions

Rinse the greens and pull the leaves off the stems. Tear or chop (or ribbon, as the Kitchen Goddess prefers) the leaves into bite-size pieces and reserve. (Can't help myself. See? It doesn’t look hard, does it?)

In a large soup pot over medium-high heat, let the oil warm for about a minute, then add the onion and carrot, and sauté for 7-10 minutes, until the onion is soft and golden, maybe even a little brown at the edges.

Stir the tomato paste, the cumin, and the Aleppo pepper (or red-pepper flakes, if that’s what you are using) into the pot, and continue stirring about a minute, when the paste will darken.

Add the turkey, garlic, ginger and 1 teaspoon salt, and sauté, stirring often and breaking up the meat with your spoon, for 5-6 minutes, until the turkey is browned in spots.

Add stock and the beans, and bring the soup to a simmer. Continue to simmer for 15-20 minutes, until the soup is thick and flavorful, adding more salt to taste. Kitchen Goddess note: At this point, you can decide how thick you want the soup to be. The KG prefers a thicker soup, so she gets her potato masher out and smashes about a third of the beans, to release their starch. You can also just use a spoon to smash some against the side of the pot. Or you can leave the beans whole for a brothier soup. It will taste great either way.

Add the greens to the pot and simmer until they are soft, or at least no longer al dente. That will take 5-10 minutes for most greens; collards are thicker and could take as long as 15 minutes. (If the broth seems like it is thickening too much, you can add a little water.)

Remove the soup from the heat and stir the herbs and lemon juice into the pot until the herbs get well incorporated. Taste the soup and add more salt, cumin and lemon juice until the broth is lively and bright-tasting. (The Kitchen Goddess adds ½ teaspoon of kosher salt and another rounded ¼ teaspoon of cumin.) Serve topped with a thin drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of Aleppo pepper (or red-pepper flakes), if desired.

The soup will be hot enough to wilt the herbs, so just stir it for a few minutes before tasting.

Enjoy the season!