Rustic Bean, Sausage and Fennel Soup

It feels like late autumn.  The days are overcast, exuding a darkness that inspires laying in bed. Rain showers intermittently drop through the falling grape leaves covering my walkway. The loosest leaves succumb to the heavy liquid as it drops from the skies, creating a sound absorbing, earthy-smelling cover to the concrete.  The air is more than crisp.  It leaves a chill in my bedroom only a cozy bed can combat, and layers upon layers of covers.

On this fine fall day, it's true, I wanted to stay in bed.  But the refrigerator called and it said, "Feed me." It had been bare for more than a day now and no longer could I live off of the things that never seem to go bad, like chestnut honey or that never ending bottle of vermouth.  Off to the grocery store I went and I was greeted with an Italian, "Good day," by the always pleasant female vagabond who unfailingly sits in front of the store every day, happy to accept any spare coin in my pocket. I reply hello but have no change to give her and walk through the market's doors. 

As it happens, going to the supermarket in Italy is all about timing. My usual store opens at 9:00am.  If you go right when it opens, that's when the employees are restocking the shelves.  These are the times when I know I don't need salad, vegetables or fruit.  Because the produce specialist working that time doesn't seem to get to the task until about 10:00am.  But the locals seem to be keen on this fact, because by 10:30am, the store is packed.  And that's when the battle begins for the red plastic handcarts. 

Already the stack is empty so I walk to the cash registers where people empty their carts to pick one up.  None are there as well.  Just a long line of people waiting to buy their groceries.  But, alas, my luck has arrived, because a lady has only two items left in her cart.  I walk forward slowly, beginning to spelunk my way through the thin passage of overflowing carts and tall people.  Almost there, I think of how to approach the woman as she empties her last item from the cart.  Excuse me, miss, may I have that? Yes, that would be the right way.  I will be formal, polite, and stunningly knowledgeable of how to ask someone for their cart in Italian.

Right when I'm about to open my mouth, my competitor got the best of me, a middle-aged woman who snuck up right behind me, saw an opening, took it, and now stood in front of me asking for the cart.

Cartless, I turn around and peak through the rest of the cashier lanes.  Excellent!  Someone accidentally placed their empty one on the other side, hidden to most, but thankfully, I'm taller than the average Italian, or so I like to think. So I grab that before anyone else can and I'm on the way to grocery buying history.

All I had on the mind was food fit for fall weather.  I needed to make something warm, full of body, something that said this is autumn. And when I got to the butcher section, I saw the excellent variety of sausages, thin, fat, long, short. And right under my nose sat two lonely packages, nearly obscure due to their front positioning. What caught my attention was their sickly dark color. Not gray, not black, but something bordering improper.  Was this blood sausage?  No, not dark enough but I wish it were.  I've made a superb Catalan (spanish) soup using blood sausage before so I wasn't exactly afraid of the stuff. No matter.  It was different than any of the other kinds available and I instantly knew I could create great soup with some complementary products. As I walked away, I noticed these were sitting next to packaged tripe, cow tongue and other offal parts. A good sign.  Those less adventurous may disagree with that notion. 

I grabbed a multicolored bag of dried beans which were considered "rustic" according to the label.  Would you want soup any other way? Then it was off to the produce section and even though I wasn't sure what part of the pig this sausage was made from, I knew some diced vegetables would greatly add to it.  Who could pass up fresh fennel when it looks so good?

Some several hours later, may I present to you... tonight's dinner:  VASGO's Rustic Bean and Fennel Soup, with Pork Liver Sausage.

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1 bag of mixed dried beans

3 large stalks celery

4 large carrots

1 medium fennel bulb, fronds removed

1 medium green bell pepper

1 yellow onion

5 cloves garlic

1 Tablespoon dried oregano

1/2 Tablespoon black pepper 

4 links fresh pork liver sausage (if you can find it!)
Any type of crusty, springy bread to soak up the liquid in between bites, such as sourdough.

Speed soak the dried beans in a large soup pot, about 1.5 hours total. Do NOT add salt or your beans will never cook properly. During that, dice all the vegetables, mix all together. In a fry pan, saute vegetable mix with olive oil over medium/medium-high heat until carrot pieces can be pierced easily with a fork. Do in batches if necessary. Add to bean soup/bean broth when beans are ready for their secondary cooking. Add oregano and black pepper to liquid. Place pork liver sausages in the soup and let simmer for an hour or two.  Remove sausages and let cool. Skim fat from soup's surface. Slice sausages into thin rounds. Add back into soup, add salt as desired. Serve. 

Mmmmmm.... home made soup....

I should also mention, a few shakes of the old Tabasco bottle gives it a surprisingly Cajun feel that shouldn't be missed if you like that type of thing.