Is there anyone in this hemisphere that doesn’t want soup right now?  This garlicky beans & greens combo has an ingredient list that you can count on your fingers…on one hand (well, almost).

You could use any white bean (cannellini, great northern, butter bean) or green (kale, chard, broccoli raab) but the silky texture of cooked escarole is so appealing and it has just enough bite to give some punch to soup.  But feel free use whatever green catches your eye at the market.

This soup could be made really simple by using canned chickpeas, but cooking your own from dried creates a tasty broth and saves a few cents in the process.  Please note that if you do use canned chickpeas be sure to buy a reputable organic brand (I use Eden) that lines the aluminum cans so the tin flavor and other strange elements don’t leach in - it’s especially important since you’ll be using the bean liquid in the soup.

Now, since I’ve made this so easy on you, unless you’re anti-breadbowl (like this guy, sheesh) go ahead and buy some nice solid loaves of sourdough bread and get to work.

serves: 6
time: 25 minutes for canned chickpeas, cooking chickpeas from dried is an additional 45 minutes – 8 hours

Chickpea and Escarole Soup in a Breadbowl

1 bag dried chickpeas (or 4 cans organic chickpeas, with liquid)
olive oil
6 cloves of garlic, sliced
about 1 Tbsp fresh rosemary, stems removed and chopped
2 veggie bullion cubes (or stock)
2 large heads escarole, washed, cored and roughly chopped
cracked black pepper
sploosh of olive oil
bread for breadbowl - crusty sourdough works well
To top: olive oil, parmesan or romano cheese (optional)

Soak your dried chickpeas one of two ways:

1) Overnight or 2) using the quick-soak method of bringing the chickpeas to a boil and then letting them stand for an hour or two.  Drain and rinse.

Add enough water to cover the beans by an inch or two.  Cook the beans; You could do this in a crock-pot for on high for 4 hours or low for 8 OR on stove for one and half hours OR in a pressure cooker for 45 minutes.

In a large soup pot, sauté the garlic in a large glug of olive oil for a few minutes over medium-low, heat until they start to turn golden.  Add the cooked beans and liquid (or canned beans and canning liquid + 1 can water) and the bullion cubes.  Taste and adjust for salt/pepper.  If you prefer a thicker soup (especially if you are using a breadbowl), at this point you can take out a cup or two of soup and puree in a blender, returning it to the pot to give the soup more body.

Add the escarole and simmer for about 10 minutes until dark green and wilted.

For the breadbowl, cut a crusty sourdough loaf downward in a circle (or rectangle, if you bread is rectangular) ¾ of an inch away from the sides of the loaf. Remove the top crust and pull away the interior of the loaf, reserving it for breadcrumbs or croutons.  Try pull out as much bread as possible without creating a hole anywhere.  Bake at 350 degrees for 15 - 25 minutes, until hot and crusty. Pour your soup in the breadbowl and forget about the dishes.

The night before my volunteer farming duties officially started at Pennypack, I was given a tour of the grounds. Toward the end of the tour I was shown a very large, very tall area of weeds dubbed something like “the squash beds.” I didn’t think too much about it, other than for an otherwise unremarkable weed patch the weeds seemed remarkably healthy.

I guess the squash were robust too because, as I later learned, the snakey squash vines plain busted out of their their narrow beds, fruit bursting off any old place. The area couldn’t be weedwacked in fear of clipping a renegade squash vine, so the weeds were allowed to grow as wild as the squash.

The task of harvesting the squash itself was a guerrilla-like operation. The harvesters (that’s me!) waded through uneven ground stomping back heavy weeds to procure our bounty, rather like Che Guevara and pals went searching through South America for socio-economic inequities. Or something like that. It was poetic, trust me. Imagine stumbling upon a startlingly red kuri squash or a blue hubbard as big as a small child. Pretty dramatic.

What I acquired from all this, other than a refreshed love for this humble fruit and a scratched pair of forearms, was the knowledge that my co-harvesters cherish squash soup above all foods. So come Friday, my last day at the farm, the squash wrangled and my duties done, I decided that my final lunch at the farm would be something I was sure everyone would love.

Serves: 5 as a side dish
Time: 1.5 hours for baking the squash, 20 minutes to prepare

Squash & Coconut Soup

1 large butternut squash
1/2 jalapeno, minced (can be deseeded)
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1 inch fresh ginger, minced
small handful basil, chopped (preferably Thai basil)
small handful mint, chopped
small handful cilantro, chopped
1/2 - 1 can coconut milk, well mixed
salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Cut the butternut squash in half legnthwise and place it cut side down on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil. Bake for an hour to an hour and a half, or until tender. Let cool.

Once the squash is cool enough to handle, cut the flesh away from the skin. Discard the skin.

Toss the jalapeno, garlic, ginger, basil, mint, and cilantro in a blender. Pour in a bit of the coconut milk and blend well. Add the squash and enough coconut milk to blend into a liquid, about 3/4 of a can for a medium butternut squash. You may need to blend in batches if your squash is big and your blender is small.

Heat the soup on the stove until at a low simmer. Add more coconut milk or water if the soup needs to be thinned down.

Serve in individual bowls and garnish with a sprig of mint, basil, cilantro, or a thin slice of jalapeno.

This soup is sister to a gazpacho, cousin to a salsa fresca, and perhaps a great-aunt to a bruschetta topping.

The Li’l Sis invented it one sultry July day when she was craving a cool tomato gazpacho but wanted something with a bit more zip. She ravaged our fire escape garden and tossed in handfuls of herbs and three tiny red chili peppers. What these peppers lacked in size they well made up for in heat. Even the tough-tongued Li’l Sis had to admit we probably used one pepper too many.

This soup is the perfect way to put the bounty of luscious August tomatoes to good, fresh, tasty use. And you might as well pick up a nice loaf of crusty bread too; it’s all you’ll need to enjoy this simple main course soup.

Time: 1 hour
Serves: 6

Spicy Chilled Tomato, Corn and Herb Soup

18 large tomatoes, stem end cored out
3 cobs of corn, cooked and kernels cut off
1 can small white beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1/2 cup chopped basil
1/3 cup chopped mint
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 - 2 jalapenos, minced (with or without seeds according to your preference)
juice of 1 lemon
3 Tbsp avocado or olive oil
2 tsp salt
freshly ground pepper to taste
3 avocados, diced

Dice 8 tomatoes, including the skins. Using the large holes of cheese grater, grate the other 10 tomatoes into a large bowl, getting all the pulp away from the skins. Discard skins, squeezing any remaining tomato juice into the bowl.

Add the cooked corn kernels, white beans, cilantro, basil, mint, garlic, jalapeno, lemon, oil, salt and pepper.

At this point you can chill the soup for two or more hours if you’d like it cold. It’s also wonderful room temperature.

Before serving, scatter the diced avocados on top.

Serve with crusty bread & olive oil.

I’ve always been a little afraid of blenders. It probably started with that scene from Goonies where the Fratellis threatened to puree Chuck’s hand in a blender. *Shutter.*

I also had a childhood mishap whilst making watermelon sorbet. After I had blended up my watermelon and measured out my sugar, instead of lifting the blender jar fully out of the base I somehow twisted off the bottom of the jar (surely a blender should have enough structural integrity to withstand a 10-year-old?) and pink slush flowed from the bottom of the container in waves and waves all over the countertop and floor. That, as you might imagine, put a stop to my career in sorbet-making and became instead an excellent exercise in floor-mopping.

Anyway, here I am, forever optimistic and instructing you all to drag out your Hamilton Beach and get to blending. This recipe makes TWO colorful, elegant, and understated soups. From there, the serving possibilities are endless. You can swirl them together in a bowl, like I did below, or serve small portions of each in individual shot glasses or martini glasses. This way guests can really appreciate the differences between the two melons. Please be prudent in your blender use; don’t stick your spoon in the moving blades and, as always, don’t threaten to stick anyone’s hand in here.

This soup would make an excellent first course on a hot day, with anything barbequed, or with a substantial salad like this Corn and Cabbage Quinoa Salad.

Serves: 4 - 6
Time: 30 minutes plus 2 hours chilling time

Chilled Spicy Melon Soup

3 teaspoons minced ginger, divided
1 clove garlic, minced
1 to 2 small jalapeno peppers, minced
1/4 watermelon, deseeded and cut into chunks
1 cantaloupe, deseeded and cut into chunks
juice of 3 limes
2 tsp salt
2 Tbsp avocado oil (or olive oil)
Mint sprigs, for garnish

Finely chop the ginger, garlic, and jalapeno and set aside in little piles.

Put watermelon in a blender with the juice of 1 1/2 limes and puree until smooth.

To the blender add 1 tsp of ginger, 1/2 tsp of garlic, 1 1/2 tsp of jalapeno, 1 tsp of salt, and 1 Tbsp of avocado oil. Blend again and adjust the seasonings to your taste. Pour the soup into a pitcher and chill in the fridge for at least 2 hours.

Repeat the process with the cantaloupe and same amount of seasonings.

You can skim off the foam or push through a sieve for a perfectionistly clearer texture. Top with a sprig of mint, if desired.

Italians have a phrase, l’arte d’arrangiarsi, which means “the art of making something out of nothing.”

I will be giving you this week, in rapid succession, two Italian recipes that incorporate l’arte d’arrangiarsi in the most tastiest of fashions.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about Rome this week… and not about the time I almost died by slipping-on-a-winebottle and becoming-trampled-on-by-champagne-soaked-Romans on New Years Eve of the much ballyhooed 1999-2000 transition. I’ll save that story for another time, but the punch line is that I didn’t die, but I guess I already gave that away.

No. My humble place of employment, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, opened a new wing of Roman art last week to much party planning on my part and fanfare (well deserved) on everyone else’s part. I’ve been living and breathing in this new wing all week and it’s penetrated my soul in some strange dichotomous way. I’ve been so busy but the statues are all so reposed. I keep doing so much but the beautiful Roman court just keeps being there so quiet and staid like it’s been in the Museum since Zeus’ head split open to birth Athena.

This again brings to mind “something out of nothing,” but by nothing this time I mean the rather un-American do-nothing something of enjoying the quiet, of savoring the soup, of just doing nothing. It’s really something if you can put aside the time notice how nice nothing is.

So here’s a soup that’s literally not much more than a $1.50 bag of dried chickpeas and some odds and ends you probably have kicking around the pantry anyway. But, I swear, it’s really something.

Serves: 6
Time: Soaking 2-8 hours, Cooking 1.5 - 8 hours (with Minimal Effort, promise)

Creamy Chickpea Soup

1 bag dried chickpeas
1 large yellow onion, chopped
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
a few pinches of dried rosemary
(1) potato, peeled and cubed
2 veggie bullion cubes (or stock)
a few pinches of dried rosemary
salt, pepper
sploosh of olive oil
To top: olive oil, parmesan cheese
To serve: Arugula Pasta with Golden Garlic

Soak your dried chickpeas one of two ways:

1) Overnight or 2) using the quick-soak method of bringing the chickpeas to a boil and then letting them stand for an hour or two.

Then cook the chickpeas with the onions, garlic, dried rosemary and enough water to cover with an extra inch on top. I’m all about doing this is a crock-pot for on high for 4 hours or low for 8 so I can go on my merry way, but you could also cook the chickpeas on the stove for one and half hours or in a pressure cooker for 45 minutes.

Once the beans are cooked, add the bullion cubes, the potato chunks, and long draw of olive oil. Cook for another 20 minutes or until the potatoes are nice and tender.

Puree the soup in a blender or with a hand-blender.

Serve this with more olive oil drizzled on top, as well as some shaved parmesan cheese.

You can serve this homestyle-but-refined soup with rice (risotto) or Bruschetta, with a green veggie or two to round out the meal. However, I’m suggesting to pair it with my Arugula Pasta with Golden Garlic, which I promise to give to you soon.