When I was growing up, ribollita was always in my Dad’s regular winter soup rotation. And when you dig into this incredibly hearty and entirely vegetarian soup, with its nutty, cheesy notes and wonderful, texture-laden greens, it’s easy to see why.
The dish’s roots are Tuscan and undeniably peasant. The inclusion of day-old bread not only drives that home, but morphs the dish’s most comforting bites into something approaching a Italian-style veggie-and-dumplings in which hunks of crusty goodness soften into silky carb comfort that’s steeped in rich, tomato-y broth. It also ticks the “complete protein” box alongside cannellini beans.
Like Dad, Bon Appétit and everyone else, Chef Kevin Fonzo cooks the bread in the soup.
“Italians waste nothing!” says the man behind La Tavola, which presents sumptuous Italian meals around communal tables at the Emeril Lagasse Foundation Kitchen House and Culinary Garden, found inside the Edible Education Experience in Orlando’s College Park neighborhood. Fonzo makes lots of focaccia.
“If it doesn’t get used on the table, I just save it and it goes into the ribollita,” he says. “I cube it up and it makes it a really hearty, stick-to-the-ribs, comforting dish.”
Fonzo’s childhood, like mine, saw many bowls of ribollita, his served at grandpa’s apartment in the Bronx, but he never really thought about making it as a chef.
“Then I started going to Italy a lot, and my grandfather’s soup was on every menu! Once I started La Tavola, it was a really good fit.”
“I’ve seen restaurants in Florence that serve it so thick you could almost use a fork to eat it,” he tells me, inspiring thoughts of baking my leftovers into a savory bread pudding of sorts. “It’s just a big mound of tomato-flavored bread.”
Some cooks prefer their ribollita brothier, others more like porridge. Fonzo favors the focaccia, not merely for it’s waste-not properties, “but because it’s got a ton of olive oil in it, and so delicious with the sea salt!”
I reviewed Dad’s version and found that it, and most others, fall right in line with this Bon Appétit offering, though this recipe features an (over the) top layer comprised of something about which few might complain: even more bread. Here, the torn chunks are layered on top of the cooked soup, slathered in olive oil and baked until golden brown. Aside from the black pepper, Bon Appétit doesn’t season the croutons, but I’d recommend it: Salt, garlic or onion powder, Italian seasoning or a combination thereof will offer added oomph.
The classic version is vegetarian, and also makes solid use of the rind on a hunk of Parmesan.
(Side note: If you’re throwing out your cheese rinds, stop right now. Much like your old bread, these can be frozen and employed elsewhere, like in soups and risottos. Fonzo will simmer the rinds in broth or even water with herbs to make a brodo for fresh tortelloni. “You can float some spinach, kale or escarole in it. It’s so good!”).
But if you’re not one to skimp on meat, your pot of ribollita welcomes the pop-in.
I threw diced Portuguese sausage into the sofrito at the outset, allowing the fat to render. Fonzo was onboard.
“If I know my guests aren’t strictly vegetarian I’ll start mine with guanciale,” he says. “Not a lot. You almost can’t tell it’s in there, but you get the pork fat and the smokiness and it’s delicious.”
Two or three anchovies wouldn’t hurt, either. It’s an Italian “secret ingredient,” after all. Fresh herbs—rosemary, Italian parsley, thyme—make a nice add, as well.
This soup is a haven for extras. Got tomatoes that are too ripe for a salad? Toss ’em in.
“Today’s entree is tomorrow’s soup!” says Fonzo.
Simple Ribollita
Recipe by Molly Baz via Bon Appétit (bonappetit.com/recipe/simple-ribollita)Makes 4–6 servings
- 1 large onion
- 3 medium carrots
- 2 celery stalks
- 8 garlic cloves
- 2 bunches Tuscan kale (I used the standard stuff, several handfuls for each round of wilting.)
- 1 small wedge of Parmesan with rind
- 1 28-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
- 1 14-oz. can cannellini beans
- ½ loaf crusty country bread (about 10 oz.)
- ⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
- ¾ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
- Kosher salt
1. Place a rack in middle of oven; preheat to 450 F. Time to prep your veg! You are going to make a mirepoix, which is just a fancy French word for the combo of chopped onions, carrots, and celery that form the flavor base for a lot of European dishes. First, cut 1 large onion in half through root. Peel and discard skins. Finely chop and transfer to a medium bowl.
2. Chop 2 celery stalks crosswise into ½-inch pieces. Add to bowl with the rest of the mirepoix.
3. Smash and peel 8 garlic cloves with the back of your knife. If any of them are left more or less intact after that initial smashing, give them another good whack with the back of your knife so they really open up and start to break apart. Add to bowl.
4. Strip stems from 2 bunches Tuscan kale and discard. Wash if they’re gritty or you really care about washing vegetables, then tear leaves into 2-inch pieces; set aside.
5. Cut rind off of 1 small Parmesan wedge; set aside.
6. Place 28 oz. canned tomatoes and their juices in a strainer set inside a medium bowl. (You need that bowl to collect the juice, which you’re going to use later—don’t throw it out!) Squeeze tomatoes and crush them with your hands while leaving them submerged in their liquid so they don’t squirt.
7. Tear ½ loaf crusty country bread into 1½-inch pieces.
8. Heat ⅓ cup extra-virgin oil in a medium Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium. Add bowl of mirepoix and 2 tsp. salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are softened but not browned, 8–10 minutes.
9. Lift strainer full of tomatoes and give it a few shakes to remove any liquid. Add tomatoes (but not juices!) and cook, stirring occasionally, until some of the rawness is cooked off, about 10 minutes. Giving those tomato solids a chance to caramelize before adding the liquid back in helps to add a lot of flavor to the stew. (Remember: Reserve the juices, you’re going to use them!)
10. While tomatoes are cooking, drain and rinse 14 oz. canned cannellini beans in the strainer you just used, then add to pot along with Parmesan rind, tomato juices, ¾ tsp. red pepper flakes, and 4 cups water. Bring to a simmer.
11. Add kale in two additions, stirring often and allowing to wilt in between.
12. Add about one-third of torn bread (no need to measure, just eyeball it) and cook, stirring occasionally, until coated and warmed through, about 5 minutes more. Taste and adjust seasoning.
13. Remove from heat. Place remaining torn bread chunks on top of stew. Drizzle generously with olive oil.
14. Transfer pot to oven and bake stew until thick, bubbling, and bread is golden brown on top, 10–15 minutes.
15. Ladle stew into bowls, drizzle each generously with olive oil, and grate lots of Parmesan over.
Note: I ended up taking the crouton layer off to prevent the soup from disappearing entirely, toasting them up on a pizza steel to re-pair with the ribollita on reheat.
