Pepperoni and Sausage Pizza Soup

The last week of June, and the summer solstice has passed — the longest day — and the days will now shorten with the imperceptible patience of a season that has made its statement and is ready to recede. The household has changed shape again: Robert is home full-time, puttering in the workshop by eight AM, appearing in the kitchen for coffee at ten, gardening until noon, reading in the afternoon, and the puttering and appearing and gardening is the rhythm of a retired man, and the rhythm is both charming and unsettling, because the kitchen that was mine during the day is now shared, and the sharing requires an adjustment that I am making with the grace of a woman who knew this was coming and who prepared for it the way she prepares for everything: by cooking.

Ruth returned this week — cautiously, masked, with gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer and the particular determination of a woman who has been away from her work for three months and who considers the away-ness both necessary and intolerable. Mama recognized her. The recognition was immediate and physical — Mama reached for Ruth's hand and held it and said, "You're here," and the "you're here" was the most present-tense thing Mama has said in weeks, because the here-ness of Ruth was not a memory but a fact, and the fact was warmth, and the warmth was Ruth's hand in Mama's hand in a kitchen in June.

I visited Joy at Magnolia House — in person, in the garden, masked and distanced, the first in-person visit in three months. Joy ran to me. Not walked — ran. The running was the greeting, and the greeting was the answer to every question I had been asking through the window glass for twelve weeks: yes, she is happy. Yes, she remembers me. Yes, the love survived the distance. Joy hugged me before I could stop her, and the hug was against protocol and against policy and the best thing I have felt in three months, and I hugged back, and the hugging was the healing, and the healing was not about the virus. It was about the glass. The glass was gone.

I made Lowcountry boil — the summer celebration, the communal feast, the shrimp and sausage and corn on newspaper on the piazza. The feast was for Robert's retirement, for Ruth's return, for the visit with Joy, for the end of the worst three months of our lives. The feast was excessive. The excess was the point. The point was: we survived.

The boil was the feast, but the week after a feast is its own kind of hunger — not for excess, but for warmth that lingers. With Robert now home, Ruth back in Mama’s kitchen, and Joy’s hug still something I could feel in my arms, I wanted a pot on the stove that said we are still celebrating without requiring newspaper on the piazza. This pepperoni and sausage pizza soup is exactly that: bold, generous, the kind of thing you make in one pot and ladle out for whoever wanders through the kitchen, which these days, thankfully, is everyone.

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

Ingredients

1 lb Italian sausage (mild or hot), casings removed
3 oz pepperoni slices, roughly chopped
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
3 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 cup mini farfalle or rotini pasta, uncooked
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese, for serving
Fresh basil leaves, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Brown the sausage. In a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat, cook the Italian sausage, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate and set aside. Drain all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the pot.
Sauté the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion and bell pepper to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and chopped pepperoni and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Build the base. Return the sausage to the pot. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes, and chicken broth. Stir in the oregano, basil, red pepper flakes (if using), and black pepper. Bring to a gentle boil.
Simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, to allow the flavors to meld.
Cook the pasta. Add the uncooked pasta directly to the pot. Increase heat to medium and cook, stirring frequently, until pasta is al dente, about 8–10 minutes. If the soup thickens too much, add an additional 1/2 cup broth or water.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top generously with shredded mozzarella. Garnish with fresh basil if desired. Serve with crusty bread for the full effect.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pepperoni and Sausage Pizza Soup — When the Feast Carries Into the Week