Tuscan Portobello Stew

September approaches, and the household is in its annual September mode — the mode of new beginnings that are also endings, of fresh starts that require letting go of what preceded them. Carrie is in the full swing of her senior year. James is deep in constitutional law. Mama is being cared for by Ruth, the daytime caregiver who started last month — a kind, capable woman from the islands who speaks Gullah and whose presence in the house has given me something I haven't had in eighteen months: eight hours of not-watching. Eight hours of being at the library without the phone in my hand, without the ear cocked for the call that says Mama has fallen or wandered or forgotten something essential.

Ruth is a gift. She arrived on a Monday in a floral dress with a bag of okra from her garden and a manner so calm that Mama, who is suspicious of strangers (or rather, of the strangeness that all people now represent), sat with her for twenty minutes without agitation. Ruth called her "Mrs. Simmons" and made her tea and spoke to her in the soft, rhythmic Gullah that sounds like music and that Mama responded to the way a plant responds to sun — by turning toward it, by opening, by becoming more of what she is.

The daytime care was Robert's suggestion. He said, on a Tuesday evening in August, with the measured tone he uses for proposals he has already decided on: "I think we should hire someone for Mama during the day." I said, "I've been thinking the same thing." He said, "Ruth." I said, "Who is Ruth?" He said, "A woman from church. She was a home health aide for twenty years. She's retired but she's willing." The willing-ness of a retired woman who chooses to spend her days caring for another woman's mother is the kind of grace that the world produces without fanfare, and the lack of fanfare is what makes it grace.

I made Ruth's okra — the okra she brought on her first day, cooked the way she described: stewed with tomatoes and shrimp, served over rice, the Gullah version that is both similar to and different from Mama's okra soup. The similarity is the Lowcountry. The difference is the hands. Every cook's hands change the recipe, and the changing is not deviation but conversation — a conversation between Ruth's okra and Mama's okra, between the islands and the mainland, between two women who have never met in a kitchen but who speak the same culinary language.

I didn’t have Ruth’s shrimp or her garden okra that evening, but I had mushrooms and tomatoes and the memory of watching her cook—the way she moved without hurry, the way the smell of something stewing can change the whole feeling of a house. This Tuscan Portobello Stew isn’t Ruth’s recipe, but it lives in the same spirit: earthy, slow, deeply savory, the kind of thing you make when you want a kitchen to feel like it’s doing the caring for a while. It’s what I made the first evening I came home from the library without the phone clenched in my hand, and it tasted exactly like relief.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large portobello mushroom caps, cleaned and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup low-sodium vegetable broth
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 cups fresh baby spinach
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
Crusty bread or cooked farro, for serving

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Brown the mushrooms. Add the portobello chunks to the pot. Cook undisturbed for 3–4 minutes, then stir and continue cooking until the mushrooms have released their liquid and begun to brown at the edges, about 5 minutes more.
Build the stew. Stir in the rosemary, thyme, smoked paprika, and red pepper flakes. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices, the cannellini beans, and the vegetable broth. Stir to combine.
Simmer. Bring the stew to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover partially and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the broth has thickened slightly and the flavors have melded.
Finish with spinach. Stir in the baby spinach and cook just until wilted, about 2 minutes. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and serve with crusty bread for dipping or over cooked farro for a heartier meal.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tuscan Portobello Stew — The Okra That Wasn’t, and the Stew That Was