Creamy cacio e pepe soup served up comfort when I needed it

What does comfort food mean to you? We tend to equate the term with something hearty and maybe even indulgent, but comfort can come in all shapes and sizes. One person's lasagna Bolognese is another person's mushroom taco, and one person's polenta with chickpeas is another person's Spam musubi.

What brings you comfort depends on why you need comforting in the first place.

When I lost my mother two years ago, I was soothed by the flavors of my youth, such as the "Texas salad" she made (and I later reinvented) and the broccoli cream cheese casserole I have yet to write about (but will sooner or later). Since one of my closest friends, Karin, died of cancer this summer, I've been ruminating on all the foods we'd eaten together over four decades of friendship, a menu heavy on chips and salsa, margaritas - and all manner of vegetables.

We shared a gusto for eating, even once her need for a weapon (and a sense of control) against a devastating disease caused her to make much more careful dietary choices than I ever have. She was vegetarian long before I was, showing me that you could seek and find satisfaction in seemingly endless combinations of produce, beans and grains flavored from time to time with sometimes injudicious amounts of butter and cheese. I've eaten less and less of the latter over the years, but this week, after I returned from her memorial service feeling stirred up emotionally again, they were part of my cravings.

Coincidentally, I had been cooking out of a book whose title speaks so clearly to me right now: "Comfort & Joy" by London-based restaurateur and writer Ravinder Bhogal. It's one of those books in which I immediately marked more than a dozen recipes to try, and the first on my list amazed me with its brilliance.

It seemed like such a modest proposition: A chickpea, orzo and kale soup flavored by a combination of ingredients made famous by a classic pasta dish. And it came together like so many soups before it - at least at first. I fried onions gently, stirred in garlic and lemon zest, then brought broth to a boil and simmered kale, chickpeas and orzo in it until the latter swelled. Nice enough, if a little spartan. Then in went a pile of fluffy grated pecorino Romano and cubes of butter, and as I stirred, the broth transformed from cloudy to rich, matte to glossy, a little bit thin to a little bit thick. It was magic. And with a few turns of the pepper grinder, I could see it and smell it: cacio e pepe.

I took a sip straight from the pot, then ladled myself out a bowlful, topped it with more cacio and more pepe, and sat down to finish it in silence for lunch. The teenager was at school, the husband upstairs with the flu. I thought about Karin, whom I met when I was 18 and she 20, looked at pictures from our recent trip to a spa in Mexico, and read through all the text messages we exchanged since her cancer returned with a vengeance a year ago. I thought about how, when you get to know someone so well at the same time that you're also just getting to know yourself, your identities can seem almost inextricable, much like the cheese and butter melting into each other in my bowl.

Would Karin have loved this soup as much as I did? No doubt. I so wished I could share the recipe with her. And I so wished the bowl could last forever, but nothing - and nobody - does.

I plan to try much more out of Bhogal's book, but first I know I'll cook this soup at least a few more times as I grieve, until I need a little less comfort and can embrace a little more joy. Soon.

Cacio e Pepe Soup With Chickpeas and Kale

TOTAL TIME: 40 minuutes

SERVINGS: 4-6 (makes 10 cups)

Storage: Refrigerate for up to 4 days or freeze for up to 3 months. The soup will thicken during storage as the orzo absorbs liquid; stir in water to thin it when you reheat.

Substitutions: No pecorino Romano? >> Use parmesan.

Kale >> Swiss chard, mustard greens or spinach.

Chickpeas >> Cannellini or other white beans.

Orzo >> Ditalini.

Ingredients
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion (8 ounces), chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, pressed or finely grated
• 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
• 6 cups no-salt-added vegetable broth
• 8 ounces curly kale, stemmed and chopped
• 2 (15-ounce) cans no-salt-added chickpeas, drained and rinsed
• 8 ounces orzo
• 5 ounces pecorino Romano cheese, finely grated, plus more for serving
• 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cubed
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more for serving
• 1/2 teaspoon fine salt, plus more to taste

DIRECTIONS

In a large Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat, heat the oil until it shimmers. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until softened but not browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic and lemon zest and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute.

Pour in the stock, increase the heat to medium-high and bring to a boil. Add the kale, chickpeas and orzo. Reduce the heat to medium, so the liquid is simmering, and cook until the orzo is tender, 5 to 7 minutes.

Add the cheese and butter and stir vigorously (without splashing) until the butter is melted, then stir in the pepper and salt. Scrape the bottom of the pot to prevent too much cheese from sticking; some is inevitable. Taste, and season with more salt and/or pepper as needed.

Divide among serving bowls, add a little more cheese and pepper to each bowl, and serve hot.the sizzling skillet to the table to serve with the tortillas and toppings.

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