Southern Italian mountain minestrone
This is really a meat stew, based on the omnipresent lamb of southern mountain pastures, along with plenty of potatoes and cabbage. Far from the idealized Mezzogiomo of eternal sunshine, sparkling waters, and Greek ruins against brilliant blue skies, the home of this hearty, one-dish meal is up on the steep, rocky slopes where, in winter, winds howl and snow bears down on obstinate mountain villages clinging to cliffsides.
A village cook would use pure lard for the fat in this dish, but since lard without added preservatives is hard to come by in North America, I use extra-virgin olive oil instead.
Serves 6
Ingredients:
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 to 3/4 pound lean boneless lamb, cut into bite-sized chunks
1/4 pound lean pancetta, diced 1 medium onion, halved and sliced
1 green celery stalk, cut into chunks
2 garlic cloves, crushed with the flat blade of a knife
1/4 cup coarsely chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried oregano (optional)
1 dried red chili (optional)
1 tablespoon tomato extract, concentrate, or paste, diluted in 1 cup hot water
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 large potatoes, peeled and diced
1/2 pound green cabbage, slivered
1/2 pound linguine or other long, thin pasta, broken into 1-inch pieces
Freshly-grated aged pecorino cheese for garnish
Procedure:
In a terra-cotta pignatta or heavy stew pot, combine the olive oil, lamb, and pancetta and set over medium heat. Cook, stirring, until the meats are brown. Lower the heat and add the onion, celery, garlic, parsley, and bay leaves, stirring to mix well. Stir in the oregano and chili. Add the diluted tomato extract to the pot along with another 2 cups water. Add salt and pepper to taste and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot and cook at a very slow simmer until the meats are thoroughly cooked and starting to fall apart, 1 to 11/2 hours.
Once the meats are cooked, add the diced potatoes along with another 2 cups boiling water to the pot and cook until they are just tender, then stir in the cabbage and pasta, adding a little more boiling water if necessary, and continue cooking until the pasta is done. Serve immediately, garnishing each serving with a little grated cheese.
Recipe source: Cucina del Sole, by Nancy Harmon Jenkins, reprinted with permission.




It's not unusual, when relocating to another part of the world, to discover new or unknown delicacies. Thus it was with us recently, when pale pink, knobbly vegetables started appearing on market stalls in this part of France. "What are they?", I asked. "They are topinambours", the man at the market replied. "You can sauté them with some garlic and parsley, or they make delicious soup. They have a slight artichoke flavour."
The last sentence should have been a give-away but we remained in the dark. What were these strange vegetables, I asked our neighbor. "Huh, they're nothing special", she replied, "but they're all the rage now, even in expensive restaurants." (They had just had a special meal at a upmarket establishment where "topinambours" had been served, 'à la nouvelle cuisine', as an accompanying vegetable.) "But we grew them as rabbit food. And now we can't get rid of them in the garden!"