Lemony Mushroom-Orzo Soup for Two

The real estate market is strong this week. I showed 7 properties and closed on 1. The pipeline is strong. The phone rings with the steady rhythm of a business that has taken six years to build and refuses to slow down.

Dimitri stopped by the bakery Saturday morning to eat spanakopita and tell Mama she is doing things wrong. She told him he had his chance. They argued. They ate. They loved. In that order, which is the only order this family knows.

I thought about Baba this week. Not the grief — the grief is always there, a familiar companion now — but the man. The way he stood at the bakery counter with his arms crossed. The way he hummed Greek songs he never knew the words to. The way he loved us in silence, which was the loudest love I have ever known.

I made fasolada — white bean soup, the national dish of Greece. Simple, humble, and more satisfying than anything that costs almost nothing has a right to be. The kitchen smelled like rosemary and the evening air and I thought: this is what survives. Not the money or the stress or the arguments about phyllo. The food survives. The recipes survive. The love baked into every dish survives.

The house was quiet this evening. I sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine and the remains of dinner and I thought about all the tables I have sat at — Mama's table in Tarpon Springs, the table in the South Tampa house I lost, the table in the apartment where I started over, this table where I have fed my children for years. Every table is a different chapter. The food connects them all.

I did not make this soup the night I described — I made fasolada, which is its own kind of medicine — but this lemony mushroom-orzo soup is the one I keep coming back to on the evenings that follow weeks like this one, when the house is quiet and I only need to feed myself and maybe one other soul. Orzo feels like home to me in a way I cannot fully explain to anyone who did not grow up in a Greek kitchen. The lemon, the earthiness of the mushrooms, the smallness of the portions — it is a recipe that does not ask anything of you except that you sit down and eat it slowly. That is exactly what I needed.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 oz cremini or baby bella mushrooms, sliced
3 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1/3 cup orzo pasta
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice (about 1/2 lemon)
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon grated Parmesan, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook for 3–4 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant.
Cook the mushrooms. Add the sliced mushrooms to the pan and stir to combine. Cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have released their liquid and begun to brown slightly.
Add broth and season. Pour in the broth and stir in the thyme, a pinch of salt, and several grinds of black pepper. Bring to a gentle boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer the orzo. Stir in the orzo and reduce heat to medium. Cook uncovered for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the orzo is tender but still has a slight bite. The broth will thicken slightly as the orzo cooks.
Finish with lemon. Remove from heat. Stir in the lemon juice and lemon zest. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into two bowls and top with fresh parsley and Parmesan if using. Eat slowly. You have nowhere else to be.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemony Mushroom-Orzo Soup for Two — The Quiet Table at the End of the Day