How big is an appetite? Your appetite? My appetite? My children’s appetites? I constantly return to these questions at home, when I cook for my family or plan a dinner party, and at work, when creating recipes or judging portion sizes in my restaurants. I want people to feel satisfied and well looked after, but I don’t like waste or excess.
Recently, Jess Thomson, who tests the recipes for this column in an American kitchen (as opposed to the British kitchen where they are created), brought it up. “There is no way this would stretch to eight in our house,” she wrote, reacting to the number of servings I suggested for my minestrone, while, I hope, also sending me a surreptitious compliment.
Winter Minestrone With Cabbage Pesto
It’s a real conundrum, and I don’t think it has to do with the general size of the American appetite compared with the British one. Jess tested this minestrone right before the holiday season, when eyes are normally much bigger than tummies. Waiting for certain festive foods to arrive — in my world, matzo balls, latkes, roasted turkey and stuffing — lifts them to ridiculous heights of desirability. It also just makes me hungry.
In this post-holiday period, on the other hand, there’s a general satiation. Eyes have definitely become smaller as tummies have filled up. For me, something long-cooked and roasted, splashed with gravy and garnished with brussels sprouts, has taken on a Voldemort-ish quality: It’s all too present but shall not be named. The fascination has suddenly turned into an aversion. Hence this minestrone, which is wholesome, meat-free and totally unthreatening and generally feels right for now, particularly in small portions.
And as with any recipe that’s meant to be shared, the joy it brings is not just from the food itself, but from the act of coming together, of sharing bowls across the table and stories between slurps. Minestrone, in my experience, never fails to encourage this communion. It’s humble yet hearty, creating a space for conversation and connection.
Indeed, the simmering pot of minestrone symbolizes a gathering of diversity – a mix of ingredients, each with its distinct flavor and texture, contributing to a greater whole that is somehow comforting and enlivening, all at once. And it’s in this diversity that the real satisfaction lies, for it offers something for everyone: the softness of cooked carrot for those seeking comfort, the bite of fresh onion for those needing a pick-me-up, and the grain-like chew of al dente pasta for those craving substance.
So, while the question of portions will always be on a chef’s mind, perhaps the true measure of a meal’s success is in the joy it elicits, the nourishment it provides, and the memories it creates. With a minestrone bubbling away, one has the recipe not just for satiety, but for happiness too. So let there be pasta in the soup, and let there be delight in every shared dish, for truly, when there’s pasta in the soup, everybody’s happy.
