Italian Orzo Spinach Soup

Thirty weeks. Ten weeks to go. The baby is the size of a cabbage, according to the pregnancy app that sends me weekly vegetable comparisons as if I'm growing a salad instead of a person. Last week: butternut squash. This week: cabbage. Next week: probably a jicama, because the app is running out of relatable vegetables and is getting desperate. I am growing a cabbage-sized human in a locked-down apartment with two other humans and the only vegetable comparison I care about is: when does the baby become the size of an actual baby? June. June is the answer to everything.

The dental office called. They're furloughed. The word "furloughed" sounds like something that happens to soldiers, not dental hygienists, but here we are. Furloughed. No work. No paycheck. Unemployment insurance — I applied online, the website crashed four times, the process took three hours, and when it was done I felt like I'd run a marathon on my knees. The unemployment will cover most of the rent. Most. Not all. The gap between most and all is a number that keeps me up at night. Terrence increased his monthly amount without being asked. He just... sent more. No announcement. No discussion. The deposit appeared and the amount was different and that's Terrence. Not talking about it. Just doing it. The action louder than the words.

Chloe is struggling with remote learning. She's eight and she learns by DOING — by sitting in a classroom, by raising her hand, by being called on, by the social contract of school. The screen is not school. The screen is a poor substitute for Mrs. Calloway and the book corner and the classroom hamster. Chloe sits at the table and does the work and she does it well because she's Chloe and competence is her brand, but her eyes are flat. The curiosity that used to light her up is dimmer. She's performing learning without experiencing it. I see her and I see myself at the dental hygiene school — doing what was required, getting through, surviving. She shouldn't have to survive school at eight. She should be LIVING it. The pandemic is stealing that from her. I can't get it back.

Jayden, conversely, is thriving in quarantine. He has the apartment as his domain. He has fire trucks in every room. He has no schedule, no cubby, no Mrs. Gonzalez saying "no helmets in the classroom." He wears the helmet all day. He is in his element. The pandemic is a five-year-old boy's paradise: no rules, no school, unlimited access to his mother's kitchen and his own imagination. He plays for hours. He invents scenarios. He narrates his own adventures in a voice loud enough to be heard through the wall. "FIREFIGHTER JAYDEN ARRIVES AT THE SCENE. THE BUILDING IS ON FIRE. FIREFIGHTER JAYDEN WILL SAVE EVERYONE." He saves everyone. Every time. The building is always saved. I wish the real world had a Firefighter Jayden.

I made soup. Again. Soup is the pandemic meal. Soup is what you make when you have a bag of vegetables and a pot and the need to transform anxiety into something edible. This time: minestrone. Beans, pasta, tomatoes, whatever vegetables survived the week. Minestrone is the soup that doesn't judge what you put in it. Minestrone is the most forgiving recipe in existence. I need forgiveness right now. I need a pot that doesn't judge.

The minestrone I kept making during those locked-down weeks was never quite the same recipe twice — whatever survived in the crisper drawer, whatever beans were left in the cabinet — and that’s exactly what I loved about it. This Italian Orzo Spinach Soup is the closest thing to that spirit I’ve found written down: beans, pasta, tomatoes, greens, and a broth that holds everything together without demanding perfection. When Terrence quietly sent more money and Chloe sat at that table with her flat eyes and Jayden narrated another fire rescue at full volume, this soup was the one thing in the apartment I didn’t have to hold together by force of will — it just became what it needed to be.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
2 stalks celery, sliced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
6 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
3/4 cup dry orzo pasta
3 cups fresh baby spinach
Salt and black pepper to taste
Freshly grated Parmesan, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the vegetables and tomatoes. Stir in the carrots, diced tomatoes (with their juices), Italian seasoning, oregano, and red pepper flakes if using. Cook for 2–3 minutes to let the flavors start to meld.
Pour in the broth and beans. Add the vegetable broth and cannellini beans. Raise heat to medium-high and bring to a boil, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook for 10 minutes until carrots are just tender.
Cook the orzo. Stir in the dry orzo and cook for 8–10 minutes, until the pasta is al dente. Stir occasionally so the orzo doesn’t stick to the bottom.
Wilt in the spinach. Add the spinach and stir until wilted, about 1–2 minutes. Taste and season with salt and black pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with freshly grated Parmesan if desired. The soup thickens as it sits — add a splash of broth when reheating leftovers.

Nutrition (per serving)

Italian Orzo Spinach Soup — The Pot That Doesn’t Judge