Let Me Tell You Why I Love Making Minestrone Soup
Alright, so you know how some dishes just smell like childhood? Minestrone Soup does that for me. Every time I cook it, I get this weird flashback of sitting at my mum’s wobbly kitchen table, trying to fish an extra carrot out of my bowl (and probably making a right mess of things). There’s something about stirring a big, mismatched pot of veggies, beans, and pasta that just feels… right. Oh, and if my phone rings while I’m minestrone-ing, it’s like—nope, world can wait—this soup matters more.
One time my brother tried to add ketchup to his bowl “for extra tang” (bless him, but no)—so if you’re tempted, consider this your gentle warning.
Why You’ll Love This—At Least I Think You Might
I make this minestrone when I want a meal that feels like a hug but won’t make me feel heavy; you know? My mum says it’s the only way she can get my little niece to eat zucchini (she calls it “green mystery”—not sure if that’s a win). Actually, come to think of it, I once forgot to add the beans, and no one noticed. So if you’re missing a thing or two, don’t sweat it. I love this recipe because it’s forgiving. If you’re having one of those days where every pan you own is already dirty, trust me, grab the big one at the back and just go. (Actually, grab two, because the first has probably, somehow, become gluey rice leftovers from a week ago.)
What You’ll Need—But Swap Freely, Honestly
- 2 tbsp olive oil (sometimes I use butter if I’m feeling rebellious)
- 1 onion, chopped (yellow or red—my Nan always said yellow, but use what’s in the cupboard)
- 2 carrots, diced (I skip peeling if I’m lazy—no shame)
- 2 celery stalks, chopped (or a small fennel bulb if you wanna be fancy)
- 3 garlic cloves, minced (from a jar in a pinch)
- 1 courgette (zucchini), diced (I leave the skin on—life’s too short, right?)
- 400g tin chopped tomatoes (sometimes I throw in a few fresh ones that are on their last legs)
- 1.2L vegetable stock (homemade is lovely, but most days it’s OXO or Knorr)
- 400g tin cannellini beans (or any beans, really—kidney beans work, or even chickpeas)
- A handful of small pasta (macaroni or whatever’s lurking at the back of the cupboard; broken spaghetti works)
- 1 handful green beans, chopped (optional, but they look pretty; peas are fine too)
- 1 tsp dried oregano (sometimes I just grab mixed herbs and hope for the best)
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Parmesan to serve (if you want, or leave off for vegan)
- Fresh basil or parsley (or dried, in an emergency, which let’s face it, is most nights)
How I Whip This Up—Or Mostly Manage To Anyway
- Start by heating the olive oil in your biggest pot—mine’s technically a soup pot, but honestly, any large saucepan will do if you like living dangerously with splashes.
- Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Fry for about 5 minutes, until everything smells like you’ve just walked into an Italian grandma’s kitchen. Don’t let things go brown—unless, actually, once I cooked them a bit too much and it still tasted grand, just a bit sweeter.
- In goes the garlic (and try not to burn it—though slightly toasted is never a disaster, or so I tell myself); stir for a minute.
- Throw in the courgette, green beans if using, and dried herbs. Give it all a good mix and let it cook for another 3–4 minutes. This is the bit where it might look a bit swampy—ignore any doubts, trust the process.
- Add in the tin of tomatoes (splash risk here, watch your top) and pour in the stock. Stir it all around and bring to the simmer. Here’s when I check I haven’t buried my wooden spoon at the bottom like last time.
- Drain and rinse your beans. Chuck them in. Pop the lid on, leave it simmering for about 15 minutes. Go put your feet up for a minute or two. (Or, more likely, clean up the onion carnage on your counter.)
- Stir in the pasta. Keep an eye on the pot—if it starts looking too thick, add some water and act like you meant to. Let it simmer for 10 minutes or until the pasta’s cooked through. (This is when I sample a bit—chef’s privileges—they say never trust a thin chef, but I’d rather not test it with underdone pasta.)
- Add salt and pepper, taste again. Adjust. Sometimes I throw in extra herbs, sometimes not. If the soup looks a bit sad, a squeeze of lemon sorts it right out.
- Ladle into bowls, scatter over fresh herbs and a bit of parmesan if you like. Or a lot—I won’t judge.
Notes—AKA What I Wish I’d Known Beforehand
- Minestrone gets thicker the longer it sits—sort of morphs into a stew if you don’t add a splash of water the next day. Actually, sometimes I like it better that way.
- If you overcook the pasta, it’ll suck up all the liquid, so sometimes, if I’ve got leftovers, I just add freshly cooked pasta when reheating. Learned that one the hard way.
- Leftover veggies? Chuck them in. I even used a stray sweet potato once—wasn’t half bad.
Variations: Sometimes Genius, Sometimes… Not
- I tried swapping the beans for lentils once. The texture kind of worked? The flavor, not so much—stick with beans unless you’re desperate.
- For a richer taste, I sometimes add a rind of parmesan to the pot while it simmers, then fish it out at the end. Magical.
- If you feel wild, a pinch of chili flakes adds a lovely zing. My dad calls it “spicy mystery soup” when I do this.
- I once went full autumn and put in a handful of kale and some butternut squash. Result: delicious, but a bit…earthy. Not for everyone.
Do You Really Need Lots of Equipment?
You really just need one big pot, honestly. If you don’t have a soup pot, use your deepest pan. As a sneaky hack, if you’ve only got a shallow one, cook everything for a bit longer with the lid on and stir more (but, you know, don’t walk away and watch TV—I’ve burned a batch or three like that…)
Keeping It Around—If You’re Lucky…
Supposedly, minestrone keeps in the fridge for up to 3 days in a sealed container. I can’t confirm this. In my house, it never makes it past one. If you somehow end up with leftovers, just reheat gently and maybe add a splash of water or more stock if it’s gone a bit gloopy. You can freeze it for a couple months too, but the pasta does get a bit soft. Serious Eats has a fab guide on soup freezing if you’re into that sort of thing.
My Preferred Ways to Serve (with a Tangent)
Perfect with a hunk of crusty bread—sourdough is my vice. Sometimes I toast the bread and rub with a raw garlic clove. Occasionally, when I’m feeling extra, I actually make garlic bread—not just for guests, either. And for the record, this tastes just as good cold, eaten standing over the sink the next day. (In my experience.)
Oh, quick story—my cousin likes to add a swirl of pesto on top. Was skeptical, then became a convert.
Pro Tips—Learned the Messy Way
- I once tried to rush the simmering stage and everything tasted sharp, like the veggies hadn’t had time to say ‘hello.’ Let it simmer, even if you’re impatient.
- Salt matters. Add a bit at a time. I once oversalted and tried the old potato trick to fix it, didn’t really work. Just don’t go mad with the shaker.
- If you forget to rinse the beans, nothing explodes, but your broth might be a bit cloudy. Not the end of the world, but now you know.
Real Questions I’ve Actually Been Asked (Swear!)
- Can I use chicken stock instead of veggie stock?
- Sure, if you’re not making it vegetarian; it adds a bit more body to the flavor. My husband insists it’s “not minestrone” until then, but don’t listen to him.
- What if I don’t have courgette?
- No worries—use more carrot, or just leave it out. Some days, I’ve added a diced bell pepper.
- Freezer-friendly?
- Mostly, yes. Just leave out the pasta and add it when reheating, or else it gets mushy (unless that’s your thing—in which case, go ahead!).
- Is this like the minestrone at Olive Garden?
- Ha! Not really, but probably tastier—even if I do say so myself. (But their breadsticks are next-level, I’ll give them that. Check them out if you want inspiration.)
Anyway, if something doesn’t make sense, just message me—I’m probably cooking anyway…
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 medium onion, diced
- 2 celery stalks, sliced
- 2 carrots, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 zucchini, diced
- 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes
- 1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
- 4 cups vegetable broth
- 1 cup small pasta (such as ditalini or elbow)
- 1 cup green beans, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon dried basil
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 cups baby spinach
Instructions
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1Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion, celery, and carrots, and sauté until vegetables are softened, about 5 minutes.
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2Stir in garlic and zucchini and cook for 2 minutes until fragrant.
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3Add diced tomatoes, cannellini beans, vegetable broth, oregano, basil, salt, and black pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil.
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4Add green beans and pasta. Reduce heat and simmer until pasta and vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.
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5Stir in baby spinach and cook for another 2-3 minutes, until wilted. Adjust seasoning if needed and serve hot.
Approximate Information for One Serving
Nutrition Disclaimers
Number of total servings shown is approximate. Actual number of servings will depend on your preferred portion sizes.
Nutritional values shown are general guidelines and reflect information for 1 serving using the ingredients listed, not including any optional ingredients. Actual macros may vary slightly depending on specific brands and types of ingredients used.
To determine the weight of one serving, prepare the recipe as instructed. Weigh the finished recipe, then divide the weight of the finished recipe (not including the weight of the container the food is in) by the desired number of servings. Result will be the weight of one serving.
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