Italian Wedding Soup

Passover this year required the kind of logistical planning that would make a military general weep with admiration. The seder was Friday night — thirty-two people, the Oceanside dining room expanded to its maximum capacity with two folding tables and chairs borrowed from the Goldsteins next door, who are not Jewish but understand that when Ruth Feldman asks to borrow chairs in April, you do not ask questions, you carry chairs.

I started cooking on Wednesday. The brisket went in first — six hours, low and slow, the way Sylvia taught me, the way her mother taught her. Then the matzo ball soup, which requires a kind of meditative patience that I do not naturally possess but have cultivated over forty years of practice. The matzo balls must be fluffy. This is not a preference. This is a theological position. Sylvia held it. I hold it. Anyone who makes dense matzo balls in my kitchen will be corrected with the gentle firmness of a woman who has been correcting students' grammar for thirty-seven years.

David and Jennifer drove down from White Plains with Ethan and Sophie. Sophie is five weeks old and slept through the entire seder, which I consider an act of extraordinary good judgment. Ethan, two years old, asked the Four Questions with David's help, and I watched my son help my grandson read the words I read for Irving, which Irving read for his father, which his father read in a language that survived the burning of the world. The chain, the chain. It always comes back to the chain.

Rebecca came alone — she is between relationships, which Sylvia would have found alarming and I find perfectly acceptable, because a woman does not need a man to attend a seder, she needs an appetite and an opinion about Pharaoh, and Rebecca has both in abundance. She and I led the seder together, alternating readings, and Marvin did the comic relief, which is his traditional role and one he performs with the deadpan excellence of a man who has been timing his jokes against liturgy for thirty-four years.

The haroset was my grandmother's recipe — apples, walnuts, wine, cinnamon. Every bite tastes like the Grand Concourse, like Sylvia's kitchen, like a history I carry in my mouth. After the seder, I wrapped leftovers for everyone and sent them home weighted down with brisket and matzo ball soup and the comfortable exhaustion of a holiday done right. Marvin helped me wash the dishes. We were in bed by midnight. The kitchen was clean. The seder was complete. Another year.

After a seder built on memory and brisket and the particular warmth of a table that knows exactly what it is, I wanted to cook something the following week that captured that same feeling — a big pot of something generous, something that feeds a crowd without fuss, something that tastes like it was made by someone who loves you. Italian Wedding Soup has always been my answer to that need: it is humble and hearty and, despite the name, has nothing to do with weddings and everything to do with comfort. Here’s how I made it.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

For the meatballs:
1 lb ground beef (85/15)
1/3 cup plain breadcrumbs
1/4 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
1 large egg
3 cloves garlic, finely minced
3 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
For the soup:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
3 stalks celery, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
12 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup acini di pepe or small pasta (orzo works)
5 cups escarole or baby spinach, roughly torn
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

Form the meatballs. In a large bowl, combine ground beef, breadcrumbs, Parmesan, egg, garlic, parsley, salt, and pepper. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overwork. Roll into balls about 3/4 inch in diameter (you should get roughly 50–55). Set aside on a parchment-lined sheet pan.
Brown the meatballs. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Working in two batches, brown the meatballs for 2–3 minutes, turning once, until a crust forms. They do not need to cook through. Remove to the sheet pan and set aside.
Build the base. Add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the pot over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the broth. Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a gentle boil. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Reduce heat to a steady simmer.
Simmer the meatballs. Carefully lower the browned meatballs into the simmering broth. Cook uncovered for 10 minutes, until cooked through and the broth has absorbed some of their flavor.
Cook the pasta. Add the acini di pepe (or your chosen small pasta) directly to the pot. Stir and cook for 8–10 minutes until tender but not mushy. If making ahead, cook the pasta separately and add per bowl to prevent it from absorbing all the broth.
Wilt the greens. Add the escarole or spinach and stir until fully wilted, about 2 minutes. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and finish each with a generous snowfall of freshly grated Parmesan. The soup keeps beautifully for three days and improves overnight — make it the day before if the occasion calls for it, and the occasion very likely does.

Nutrition (per serving)

Italian Wedding Soup — The Bowl That Taught Me Every Good Soup Is Really About What You Pass Down