Delicious and Comforting Creamy Cacio e Pepe Soup Recipe with Chickpeas and Kale

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

When I lost my mother two years ago, I found solace in the flavors of my childhood, like the “Texas salad” she made (which I later reinvented) and the broccoli cream cheese casserole I have yet to write about. After losing one of my closest friends, Karin, to cancer this summer, I reflected on all the meals we shared during our four-decade friendship, often centered around chips and salsa, margaritas, and various vegetables.

Get the recipe: Cacio e Pepe Soup With Chickpeas and Kale

Although her battle with cancer led her to make more cautious dietary choices than myself, Karin had been a vegetarian long before I became one. She showed me that satisfaction could be found in a variety of plant-based combinations, with occasional indulgences of butter and cheese. Over the years, my consumption of dairy has decreased, but after returning from Karin’s memorial service, I found myself craving those familiar flavors once more.

Coincidentally, I had been exploring a cookbook that resonated deeply with me in my current emotional state: “Comfort & Joy” by Ravinder Bhogal, a renowned restaurateur and writer based in London. This book immediately caught my attention, and I marked numerous recipes to try. The first recipe I attempted amazed me with its brilliance.

At first glance, it seemed like a simple concept: a soup made of chickpeas, orzo, and kale, flavored with the ingredients from a classic pasta dish. As I followed the recipe, the soup came together much like any other I had made in the past. I sautéed onions, added garlic and lemon zest, and simmered the kale, chickpeas, and orzo in broth until cooked. It was pleasant, but unremarkable. Then, I added a generous amount of grated pecorino Romano and cubes of butter. As I stirred, the broth transformed from cloudy to rich, from matte to glossy, and from thin to thick. It was truly magical. A few twists of the pepper grinder brought out the unmistakable aroma of cacio e pepe.

I couldn’t resist taking a sip straight from the pot before serving myself a bowlful. As I savored each spoonful in silence, memories of Karin flooded my mind. We met when I was 18 and she was 20, and over the years, our identities intertwined, much like the cheese and butter melting together in my bowl.

I wondered if Karin would have loved this soup as much as I did. Without a doubt, she would have. I wished I could have shared the recipe with her. But as I continued to eat, I realized that nothing – and no one – lasts forever.

I plan to explore more recipes from Bhogal’s book, but for now, I know I’ll continue to cook this soup as I grieve, finding comfort in its flavors. Eventually, I hope to find more joy and require less comfort. But until then, this soup will be my solace.

Get the recipe: Cacio e Pepe Soup With Chickpeas and Kale