---
title: "On Slow Food: Why I Stopped Making Quick Dinners"
created: 2025-02-08 11:00
author: Amelia Fontaine
keywords: ribollita, Tuscan soup, slow cooking, beans, bread soup, philosophy
description: A personal essay on unhurried cooking, what it teaches, and a recipe for ribollita — the classic Tuscan bean and bread soup that rewards patience.
---

# On Slow Food: Why I Stopped Making Quick Dinners

There is a cooking genre that has dominated food media for years: the thirty-minute meal. I understand its appeal. Most evenings, after work, a long recipe feels like a burden rather than a pleasure. And yet I have become increasingly resistant to optimising everything in my kitchen for speed, because the things I cook quickly are consistently the things I care about least.

This is not an argument against efficiency. It is an argument for noticing what the efficient mode costs you.

When I make ribollita — the Tuscan bean and bread soup that requires at minimum a day of preparation and ideally two — I am in contact with something different from when I assemble a weeknight pasta. The process demands attention at intervals: checking the beans as they soak, tasting the soup as it reduces, deciding whether it needs more kale, more bread, more time. The cooking is a form of thinking, and the thinking changes how I relate to what I'm eating.

Carlo Petrini, who founded the Slow Food movement in 1989, was arguing partly about sourcing — buying from small producers, preserving food cultures — but the underlying idea is also about tempo: that the pace at which we engage with food shapes what the food means to us.

I am not evangelical about this. Quick meals have their place. But I notice that the meals I remember, the ones that feel genuinely nourishing rather than merely functional, are almost always the ones that took time.

## Ribollita

The name means "reboiled." This is a soup that is made one day and eaten the next, when the bread has fully absorbed the broth and the whole pot needs to be reheated — reboiled — before serving. It is cheap, warming, and in its complexity of flavour, as satisfying as any elaborate preparation.

**Ingredients (serves 6):**
- 400g dried cannellini beans, soaked overnight
- 1 head cavolo nero (black kale), stalks removed, roughly chopped
- ½ savoy cabbage, roughly shredded
- 1 large onion, roughly chopped
- 3 stalks celery, chopped
- 3 carrots, chopped
- 4 cloves garlic, sliced
- 400g tin whole plum tomatoes
- 4 tbsp olive oil, plus more for serving
- 1 sprig rosemary
- 2 bay leaves
- 200g day-old Tuscan or sourdough bread, roughly torn
- Salt and black pepper
- Parmigiano Reggiano rind (if you have it — adds considerable depth)

**Day One:**

Drain the soaked beans and cover with fresh cold water in a large pot. Add the Parmigiano rind if using. Bring to a simmer and cook for 1–1.5 hours until completely tender. Do not add salt until the last 10 minutes — it toughens the skins. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid. Mash or blend about a third of the beans until smooth; leave the rest whole.

In the same pot, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Cook the onion, celery, and carrot for 12 minutes until soft. Add the garlic, rosemary, and bay. Cook for 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, crushing them with your hand as you add them. Cook for 10 minutes.

Add the whole and puréed beans, the cabbage, and the cavolo nero. Pour in the reserved bean cooking liquid and enough water to make a thick, substantial soup. Bring to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes.

Add the torn bread and stir it in. The bread will absorb the liquid and disintegrate partially, thickening the soup into something between a soup and a stew. Season generously. Remove the rosemary sprig and bay leaves.

Cool, cover, and refrigerate overnight.

**Day Two:**

Reheat gently, adding a little water if needed — it will have thickened further. Bring back to a simmer and cook for 15–20 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Serve in deep bowls with a generous pour of your best olive oil over the top, a grinding of black pepper, and Parmigiano if you like. In Florence they sometimes add a drizzle of new-season olive oil and nothing else.

## What Slow Cooking Teaches

It teaches you that the most important ingredient in cooking is often time, which money cannot substitute for. It teaches patience, because you cannot make the beans cook faster without a pressure cooker, and even then the texture changes in ways that are less interesting. It teaches attention, because slow-cooked food needs checking and tasting as it develops.

And it teaches proportion — that a Sunday afternoon in the kitchen is not time lost but time spent. The ribollita that arrives on Monday evening required no effort that day at all. It is simply there, waiting, improved by its rest, ready to give you something back.
