Rachel Roddy's recipe for courgette, cannellini bean and herb soup

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A kitchen in Rome

Knowing how much salt to add, and when, is an under-rated skill. See how it transforms a simple spring soup

Rachel Roddy

Mon 4 May 2020 11.00 BST

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With its flared top, funnelled length, high heel and spur, Italy is unmistakably a thigh-high boot. It becomes a knee-high boot if you cut it in half, following a line from Rome on the Tyrrhenian coast, to Porto d’Ascoli on the Adriatic one, which is pretty much what the Via Salaria does, give or take the odd curve.

The original imprint of the road predates the foundation of Rome, and was the work of an ancient population of settlers and warriors called Sabini. These early routes were created gradually, bit by bit, to move supplies between settlements – the most important of which was sal, salt, produced in salt pans on both coasts from both oceans. Under the Romans, these became the first consular routes and were named – purposefully – Via Salaria. Those marching along the Salt Road were often paid with the valuable substance they transported, which is where the Latin salarium – salary – comes from. Also, the idea of salt as worth and wisdom. Things done cum grano salis, with a grain of salt, are done discerningly, as opposed to foolishly because you have no salt in your head, or in your soup.

These last few, persistently rainy days of quarantine, I’ve made even more soup than usual, and also re-read much of Samin Nosrat’s book, Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. Where would we be without salt? Adrift in a sea of blandness, is her answer, before she hopes: “If one lesson from this book stays with you, let it be this: salt has a greater impact on flavour than any other ingredient. Learn to use it well and your food will taste good.” I can’t help but think that Samin’s attitude to salt is a bit like that of the Sabini, knowing it is at the heart of everything and adding it in the same way they built their salt road – gradually, bit by bit. She recommends getting to know your salt, then adding it at all stages of cooking, because it is what coaxes out flavour.

I use two sorts of salt, both from Sicily: sale fino – fine sea salt for seasoning – and sale grosso, tiny, hard-pebble-like sea salt for salting water, which I keep in jars near the cooker. The spoon in the sale grosso pot holds about 10g of it, which is what I add to every litre of water for boiling pasta and vegetables. For fine salt, I use my fingers: a thumb with one finger is 1g, with two fingers is 2g, with three fingers is 6g, and with four it’s 10g – obviously this is all personal and as vague as a home serving of gin. Most of the time I am adding 2g at time and tasting constantly, especially when I am making improvisational soups such as this week’s recipe.

Samin mentions how the chef Judy Rodgers often told her chefs a dish needed seven grains of salt. I read lots of food writing and few things stick, but Judy’s seven grains and Samin’s salting – doing so every step of the way, like the Sabini – have adhered like sticky seeds to a woolly jumper; reminders of the need to taste and adjust salt discerningly.

Courgette, cannellini bean and herb soup with croutons

It is hard to judge for salt when food is scalding hot; sitting alters flavour, so leave it to sit before tasting and adjusting salt and pepper – if indeed it needs it.

Prep 10 min
Cook/rest 1 hr 30 min
Serves 4

Rachel Roddy's recipe for courgette, cannellini bean and herb soup | Food (2024)

Courgette, cannellini bean and herb soup with croutons

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