Cannellini bean
classicBean starch thickens the broth the leaf has been bleeding into.
Tuscany answering winter. Blacker, sweeter and more serious than kale, and entirely aware of it.
Bean starch thickens the broth the leaf has been bleeding into.
Yesterday bread, today soup. The crust is the thickener.
Raw, at the end, in an insulting quantity. Fat is the seasoning.
Sliced into cold oil so it sweetens before the leaf hits.
Sheep salt against mineral bitterness. Sharper than parmesan, and needed.
Heat lifts a leaf that otherwise sits flat on the tongue.
Fennel-scented pork fat renders into the braise and coats every rib.
Pine resin cuts through the iron the way lemon cannot.
Bitter dark leaf and nutty grain both need long heat to make sense.
Wet cornmeal underneath, sweet enough to do the arguing.
Dissolved in oil, it seasons the leaf from inside the pan.
Nutty bean skins and dark leaf, both earthy, neither sweet.
Bitter dark leaves wilted in the melted fat; Calabria eats it this way.
Two tannic bitters ground together stop being bitter and become a sauce.
Shared roast bitterness. A scrape of espresso in the pan juices.