We may have passed peak winter doldrums, but the blahness of March persists — and I’m still craving the dish that brings me the most nourishment, the most warmth, and the most comfort: soup.
But making soup at this point? That’s a different story. Most recipes serve six to eight people and on nights when I’m cooking just for myself, it feels like too much. Too much to eat, too much to shop for, too much to store in a freezer that’s always as jam-packed as my neighborhood park on the first day of spring.
My solution is a sausage, rice, and greens soup: it’s fairly fast and easy and is enough for two bowls. Everyone’s appetite is different, but to my mind, this is just the right amount. If you don’t eat it all, the extra makes for an easy lunch the next day, but there isn’t so much surplus that it will go to waste.
This experiment-turned-staple started with the sausage, a protein I turn to regularly because it punches above its weight. It’s inexpensive, quick-cooking, and easy to buy in small quantities, but it contains serious flavor because of all the spices pre-packed inside. (Remember, short rib is for friends, sausage is for you.) The rest of the dish fell into place with a few of the many pantry ingredients I always have on hand — the key to cooking well for yourself.
Start by heating 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a three-quart saucepan set over medium high heat. Take the meat out of the casings of 2 sausages, which should weigh about 8 ounces in total. Use whatever sausage you like. I’ve made this with both pork and chicken; sometimes I opt for spicy, sometimes mild. I’ve sought out more unusual offerings from my local butcher (a broccoli rabe and garlic combination comes to mind) and picked up classic grocery store varieties, like mild Italian.
Add the sausage to the pot and mash it down with a wooden spoon. You want as much surface area as possible touching the bottom of the pan to brown the meat properly. Let that go for 4 minutes without touching it, then break up the clumps further until you’ve formed bite-size pieces. Stir and keep cooking until the sausage is nicely browned on all sides, another 2 minutes or so. Transfer to a small bowl and set aside.
While the sausage is cooking, dice half of a small yellow or white onion (or a quarter of a large one) and thinly slice 2 cloves of garlic. After the sausage comes out, lower the heat slightly to medium, add the onion to the pot and season with salt, ground black pepper, and chile flakes. Let the spices bloom and the onion soften and take on some color, 4 to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the garlic and let it sizzle, two minutes more.
As your aromatics finish cooking, you’ll see some fond — dark and caramelized bits stuck to the bottom of the pot. Pour in 1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar. (You can sub white wine vinegar or rice vinegar here, too.) This will deglaze the surface, releasing extra meatiness that would otherwise go to waste. Let the intense acidity burn off for 2 minutes (as you would if you were burning the alcohol out of wine).
Put the sausage back in and pour in 3 cups of water. Add 1 teaspoon of soy sauce and 1 teaspoon of fish sauce. Neither will be distinct in the end; they just lend an overall savoriness to your soup. Stir, taste, and adjust, following a rule not just for this recipe but whenever you cook: Start small, knowing that flavors will intensify as time goes on. You can always add more. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat to low, cover the pot, and let it simmer for 15 minutes.
Add 2 tablespoons of long grain white rice. I don’t bother to rinse because it’s such a small amount, and I want the starch to add body to the broth. Cover again and let it simmer for 18 minutes more. Take another taste to make sure your rice is cooked through. This is the moment to tweak things to your liking. Needs more salt? Add some (or another dash of soy sauce). Needs more depth? Add another shake of fish sauce.
During this last simmer, rinse a few leaves of any hearty green you like. Escarole, Napa cabbage, Swiss chard, collards, and kale all work beautifully. Chop or tear them into large bite-size pieces (about two cups, lightly packed). Add the greens to the pot and stir until they are wilted but not limp, about 2 minutes. You want to retain some structural integrity — and even a bit of crunch in the rib.
When the soup is done and ladled, I shave some Parmesan over top so it melts onto the surface. Finally, I add a generous squeeze of lemon. In cooking terms, this balances a rich meal. In soul terms, it’s a needed jolt of brightness.
Emma Wartzman is the kitchen and dining writer at New York magazine’s the Strategist.
