Pasta e Fagioli — Beans and Comfort While the Kitchen Dreams Big

The kitchen renovation conversation has started. Eduardo and I have been talking about knocking out the wall between the kitchen and the old dining room to make one big space — a kitchen big enough to cook for the army I feed every Sunday, big enough for a table and a prep area and a stove and enough counter space to make pasteles without taking over the entire house. The kitchen I have now is good. The kitchen I imagine is magnificent.

Eduardo said, Carmen, renovation costs money. I said, Eduardo, feeding twenty-four people in a kitchen designed for eight costs sanity. He said, How much will it cost? I said, I do not know yet. He said, Find out. I said, I will. He said, And then we will decide together. I said, Eduardo, we will decide together and the decision will be yes. He looked at me. He went back to his newspaper. He knows the decision will be yes. He has been married to me for thirty years. He knows that when Carmen has decided the kitchen needs to be bigger, the kitchen will be bigger. The only variable is the timeline.

I called a contractor — a friend of a friend, a Dominican man named Rafael who does good work and whose wife makes an excellent mangu, which I consider relevant to his qualifications. He came to look at the wall. He knocked on it. He looked at the ceiling. He said, It is not load-bearing. I can do it. I said, When? He said, March. I said, March is good. March is perfect. March is when Hartford starts to thaw and new beginnings feel appropriate.

Mami watched this conversation from her chair. She said, You are making the kitchen bigger? I said, Yes, Mami. She said, Good. Your kitchen is too small. I said, Mami, my kitchen is the biggest room in the house. She said, Then make it bigger than the biggest. I love this woman. I love her ambition. I love that at eighty-two, from a chair in the corner, she is still pushing me to make the kitchen bigger, because a bigger kitchen means more food and more food means more people and more people means more love and more love is never enough. More love, like more garlic, is the answer to every question.

Made a simple arroz con habichuelas tonight — rice and beans, the foundational meal, the meal that costs three dollars and feeds four people and tastes like a million dollars in love. The basics, mi amor. While the walls come down and the kitchen grows, the basics hold. The rice and beans hold. That is enough.

Arroz con habichuelas is mine — it will always be mine — but when I went to the pantry and found no rice, I found something else: dried beans, a can of tomatoes, and a box of small pasta, and I thought, the beans do not care what they swim with. Pasta e Fagioli is Italian rice and beans, really — a different grandmother’s answer to the same question every grandmother asks, which is how do I feed my people something warm and true with what I have. That question does not change when the walls come down. That question does not change when the kitchen gets bigger. The beans always answer it.

Pasta e Fagioli

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 1 teaspoon dried rosemary
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
• 2 cans (15 oz each) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
• 4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
• 1 cup small pasta (ditalini or elbow macaroni)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
• Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Instructions

1. Saute the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 7 minutes. Add the garlic, rosemary, thyme, and red pepper flakes and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
2. Add tomatoes and beans. Stir in the diced tomatoes with their juices. Add the cannellini beans and pour in the broth. Stir to combine and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
3. Simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes to let the flavors develop. Using the back of a spoon or a potato masher, lightly crush about one-quarter of the beans against the side of the pot to thicken the broth.
4. Cook the pasta. Add the pasta directly to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until al dente, about 8–10 minutes. If the soup thickens too much, add a splash of water or additional broth to reach your desired consistency.
5. Season and finish. Taste and season generously with salt and black pepper. Stir in the fresh parsley. Ladle into bowls and top with grated Parmesan cheese and a drizzle of good olive oil if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 10g | Sodium: 480mg