Eliane has always been a bit of a black sheep. Early on, she broke the mold by being one of the few women in her family to read up on topics like psychology and science. At a time when most women were relegated to the kitchen, she was busy advocating for freedom of mind, body and spirit. But no matter how heated things got at home because of her rebelliousness, one dish was always a unifier: her mother’s minestra di verdure. 

Eliane, who lives in Paris and is 86 years old, was born in Tunisia to Italian parents who emigrated in hope of finding work and making a better life for themselves. At age five, she and her family moved to France, where she still lives today.  

A kick-scooter-riding, rap-loving feminist—who’s also on Instagram—Eliane has a youthful spirit that belies a rich, long life. A highlight was fighting for women’s rights during France’s legendary May ‘68 protests. “That was a revelation for me. It was a time of sexual liberation … I knew I didn’t want a husband like my father. I saw other people [romantically], so my husband did too.”

Those revolutionary times shook something loose in her. “Before that, I thought: I’m married, I have a child, so that’s it, my life is this. But I was wrong,” she said. At age 40, Eliane decided to go back to university, and a few years later, she began hosting her own culture show on France Culture Radio, providing a platform for the country’s most intelligent women. 

Yet amid all those life changes, nostalgic dishes like minestra kept her grounded and in touch with her roots. There was a comfort in the recipe’s simplicity: Always beans, carrots, zucchini, turnips, leeks, green cabbage, celery root, and fennel. Always simmered, not boiled. Always made for loved ones, not for one, as a means to nourish and connect.

These days, Eliane cooks the soup for her granddaughter, Lola, the French filmmaker and actress who made the Grandmas Project mini-documentary about the dish. Like her grandmother, Lola celebrates minestra as a direct link to her Italian heritage. “I don’t speak Italian, and my Italian family doesn’t speak French, so nonna’s soup is really the only link we have left,” she says.

But beyond distant family roots, the soup is a testament to the pair’s deep connection here and now. “She’s my best friend, my idol, my role model,” says Lola. 

Each time Lola visits her grandmother, Eliane slips on her sun-yellow jacket, hops on her scooter, and heads to her favorite greengrocer at Aligre market to pick up ingredients for minestra. “She knows I can’t go too long without it,” chuckles Lola. 

Upon her return, the two sit together at the kitchen table, sipping on a glass of red wine as they peel and chop vegetables, talk about their love lives, and belt out Italian songs from Eliane’s childhood. 

That’s Nonna for you. A woman who believes in the plurality of lovers, in the power of psychology and science, and the importance of stepping outside one’s comfort zone. “My aim in life is to be as cultivated as possible by the time I die,” she says.

Recipe

Minestra di Verdure

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The post This Italian Nonna’s Vegetable Soup Is a Portal to Her Past appeared first on Saveur.

When Natasha Raheja told her grandmother Nani she wanted to film her cooking Sindhi kadhi—a tangy Pakistani curry brimming with lotus root, okra, and cauliflower—she laughed. Nani wondered aloud what anyone could possibly want to know about an old woman like her. But the fact that her eldest granddaughter was the one asking was reason enough to agree. 

For years, Natasha had been collecting voice recordings of her grandmother while she cooked the dishes of her birthplace, Sindhi province in Pakistan. It was a way for Natasha to connect with her heritage. A Texan of Pakistani descent, she spent every summer with her grandparents in Gujarat, India. She knew that Nani and Nana (her grandfather, a textile merchant) wound up there after the 1947 Partition forced them out of Pakistan. She also knew that the two had lived in refugee camps, and that Nani never returned to her home country—and never saw her family again.

Natasha understood the facts, but what was it like to live through that upheaval? She would ask questions, but they were always met with silence. The books she’d read about post-traumatic stress syndrome and depression among Pakistani refugees made her wonder if her grandparents were even aware of their own trauma.

It’s clear from the Grandmas Project film—part of a series about grandmothers cooking with their filmmaker grandchildren—that Nani possesses great strength and calm. She proudly took care of everyone, including Nana: Nani would do the chores while Nana got to rest, revel in his memories, listen to the radio, and savor Nani’s cooking. Sindhi kadhi was a staple in their home, and though it was probably the thousandth time he’d eaten it over their 60 years of marriage, it’s clear from his expression that it still sparks something inside him. 

Sadly, Nani never got to see Natasha’s film when it came out in 2019. She passed away that same year, making the footage an even more poignant reminder of her generous, contented spirit. When Nana watched it, his eyes filled with tears at the all-too-familiar images of his wife wrapping herself in her favorite pistachio-green saree before sitting down to eat. Without Nani, and without her comforting cooking, Nana feels homeless. 

These days, Natasha is keeping her grandmother’s spirit alive by making Sindhi specialities like Sindhi kadhi alongside her mother and sisters. Every year, on the anniversary of Nani’s death, Natasha dons one of her grandmother’s sarees and gets cooking. She says the smells and tastes open a portal through which she can access the fading memories of those Gujarat summers.

Recipe

Sindhi Kadhi (Pakistani Vegetable Curry)

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The post Finding Family History in a Big Bowl of Curry appeared first on Saveur.