White bean and tomato soup

My grandmother never really liked to cook.  She did it, of course, for many years out of necessity--in the pre-feminist 50's and 60's, with a husband and three daughters to feed, cooking was an inevitability.  And as a good Jewish grandmother, conditioned to shower her family with love in form of food, she continued to make meals for us whenever we visited.

But with the rise of packaged foods, as her children and grandchildren have grown independent and her body has slowly wound down, she's stopped cooking on her own.  Now, at age 87, with a 94-year-old strict-vegan husband, her repertoire in the kitchen is limited to cocktails in the evening and fruit salad in the morning.  Most of her recipes were handed off to my mother long ago; they're Mom's recipes now, and that's how I remember them.

But there's one recipe I do remember well from her kitchen, the only real "grandmother's recipe" I have: white bean and tomato soup.

I can't credit my grandmother for coming up with the recipe--I think she found it in a magazine many years ago--but it's been a staple of our holiday-time visits every year.  I can picture her standing at the stove, with a stained apron tied over her lavender sweat suit, wearing a pair of bedroom slippers at least as old as I am, stirring an enormous pot of beans and tomatoes while I begged for a taste.  This is the epitome of healthy comfort food, creamy and tangy and buttery and bright, and perfect for the first rainy weekend of the season.

It's an all-day, plan-ahead kind of dish, starting with dried white beans.  For the record, I have nothing against canned beans, and I use them all the time.  But in this case, reconstituting and cooking the beans from scratch yields a thick, luxurious, delicately perfumed soup.  (It also makes for a wonderful cold-weather afternoon: a big aromatic pot bubbling gently on the stove, friends and family curled up with blankets and books, or playing cards or watching movies, while the rain chatters against the windows...)

To prepare the dried beans, cover them with plenty of cold water, and either let them soak overnight, or bring them to a boil, turn off the heat and let them sit for an hour.  Then drain, rinse well, put them in a pot with lots of water, and simmer them until they're soft and milky.  The rest is simple: the cooking liquid from the beans becomes the broth for the soup, and all you have to do is put a pot of pasta to boil, put together the mirepoix--onion, celery, and carrot, the classic soup base--and open a couple cans of tomatoes.  (Although, disclaimer: I submitted this recipe to Valentine for my first parents' weekend, and they managed to screw it up royally.  Don't forget the tomatoes.  They're a vital ingredient.  Lesson learned.)

My grandmother liked to use large white beans and regular-diced tomatoes; I like my soups a little less chunky, so I used small white beans and petite-diced tomatoes.  Either way, served with a drizzle of olive oil and a spoonful of orzo, this is an heirloom soup to be proud of.

Marilyn's White Bean and Tomato Soup (serves 8-10)

1 (16-oz.) bag dried white beans

1-2 bay leaves

1 quart water

2 tbsp olive oil, plus more for drizzling

1 onion, finely chopped

1 carrot, finely chopped

1 celery stalk, finely chopped

3-4 cloves garlic, minced

2 (14.5 oz.) cans diced tomatoes (I like the no-salt-added, so I can add my own later)

1/4 cup basil, sage, or Italian parsley, minced

2 cups cooked orzo, for garnish (optional, but SO good)

Salt and pepper to taste

Soak beans (overnight or 1-hour method), drain, and rinse well.  Put in a large stockpot with bay leaves, water, and a drizzle of olive oil--no salt, yet.  Bring to a boil and skim off the thick white foam that appears on the surface; turn down to a bare simmer, cover, and cook 1 hour, or until the beans are tender.  The longer they've soaked, the faster they'll cook.

In a separate pan, heat olive oil and saute onion, carrot, celery, and garlic until everything is soft and the onions are completely translucent.  Add tomatoes and cook another 10 minutes, until the mixture is stewy and warm.  Add to the bean pot, and season with salt and pepper.  Bring back to a boil, cover, and simmer 1 hour, or until it's coalesced into a big pot of soupy goodness.  Stir in fresh herbs, and adjust seasoning as needed.  Serve with a drizzle of olive oil and a heaping spoonful of orzo on top (if desired).