The principle of minestra maritata is simple: various cuts of pork are simmered in water to make a broth, which is then strained and used to cook a large quantity of mixed greens, before the boiled meat is returned to the pot and the dish is finished with cheese. The name comes from the idea that the vegetables and the meat si maritano (get married). It’s a bit of stovetop polygamy, because all of those involved contribute to the flavour of this brothy, deeply tasty soup that’s traditionally served at Christmas or Easter, and on most days at Hosteria il Brigante in Salerno, which is run by a man who used to be a dentist and where I first tasted it.
As well as the excellent memory of dark greens and bits of pork in a slightly gelatinous broth, and red wine, my starting point was Jeanne Caròla Francesconi’s magnificent La Cucina Napoletana. She begins with a short telling of a long history of a dish also known as pignatto grasso, which embodies the idea of Neapolitans as mangiafoglie (leaf-eaters) before they were mangiamaccheroni (pasta-eaters). She notes how rare it was to find anywhere making minestra maritata in the traditional way (she was writing in 1992) – that is, using seven types of pork: a prosciutto bone, pork skin, fresh pork, pork ribs (tracchiolelle), salame (pezzentelle), sausages and lard, as well as a big bunch of mixed herbs. While the greens she suggests are broccoli, chicory, escarole and two types of cabbage (the smooth-leaved cappuccio and an old variety with stiffly ruffled leaves called torzelle). She also offers a modern adaptation that calls for just six types of pork.
