Rice & Grains

Springtime Risotto
Risotto Primavera

April 27, 2026 By Deborah Dal Fovo Leave a Comment

risotto primavera with asparagus, peas, and fava beans

For me, springtime is the most joyous season of the year—a rebirth of nature and a true awakening of the senses. This is most evident at the farmers’ market, where precious gifts of vibrant color and flavor delight both the eyes and the palate in the form of asparagus, peas, and fava beans. With the arrival of these “first fruits” of spring—known in Italy as le primizie—comes a classic dish that marries them together and pays homage to the season: Risotto Primavera.

I await this time of year with quiet anticipation, not by the calendar but by the moment they finally appear at market. Tall bundles of asparagus standing at attention, candy-sweet peas tucked in their pods, long fava bean pods piled high in tangled heaps. I slow my pace from stand to stand, choosing each ingredient with care, gathering the season with reverence.

At home, the ritual continues. The vegetables are spread across the counter, and I take my time—shelling peas, slipping fava beans from their skins, trimming asparagus into small, round coins. These small, repetitive tasks feel less like work and more like a quiet, spiritual preparation before a celebratory event.

Risotto Primavera is the natural choice for these early spring vegetables—their vivid greenness punctuating the creamy white rice like splashes of paint on a blank canvas. It is a dish that asks for patience and attention, a gentle stirring and steady presence. Ladle by ladle, the broth is absorbed as the rice slowly cooks, releasing its delicate creaminess. The blanched vegetables are added at just the right moment, preserving their bright color and tenderness.

There is something deeply satisfying in this process—nothing rushed, nothing forced. Much like spring itself, the dish unfolds gradually, revealing its beauty in stages. Each mouthful carries the sweetness of peas, the earthiness of fava beans, and the herbaceous notes of asparagus, tied together by the freshness of parsley and mint.

It’s a dish I return to year after year, not out of habit, but out of longing—for that first taste of spring, for the sense of renewal it brings, and for the quiet joy of honoring the season at its peak. Served simply, perhaps with a glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc, Risotto Primavera becomes more than a dish. It is an ode to springtime, each bite a celebration of the season’s first and finest offerings.

Looking for more Italian springtime recipes? Try my Savory Easter Tar t and Nonna’s Italian Apple Cake

RISOTTO PRIMAVERA
Springtime Risotto with Asparagus, Peas, Fava Beans
{Recipe}
Copyright, 2012, Deborah Dal Fovo, All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

Serves 4

1 pound/454g asparagus, washed
1½ pounds/680g spring peas in pods, shelled (1½ cups peas)
1 pound/454g fava beans in pods, shelled (1 cup beans)
3 tablespoons/45g extra virgin olive oil
6 tablespoons/85g cold butter, cut into dice
1 small leek, weighing about ½ pound/227g
1½ cups/300g Carnaroli, Vialone Nano, or Arborio rice
Handful Italian parsley leaves, finely chopped
8 mint leaves, finely chopped
1½ ounces/45g freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese (¾ cup)
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Trim the asparagus using the bend and snap method: hold a single stalk with one hand in the middle
and the other near the bottom end. Gently bend the stalk until it snaps at its natural breaking point, separating the tender top from the tough, woody bottom. Use this top half as a guide to trim the remaining asparagus using a knife, reserving the woody ends for broth. Cut the asparagus tips off the trimmed stalks and set aside, then cut the stalks crosswise into ¼ inch rounds.

Trim the green parts and root end from the leek to obtain a 5-inch/12cm piece of the white part. Cut this tender part in half lengthwise and remove the tough outermost layers, reserving them for the broth. Place the leek halves, flat side down, on the cutting board and cut crosswise into thin slices. Place the leeks in a bowl of cold water, agitating the water with your fingers to release any soil. Lift leeks out of the water and place in a strainer (do not pour through strainer or the soil will remain).

Fill a large bowl with cold water and ice cubes and set near stove. In a saucepan, bring 3 quarts water to a boil. Season the water with 1 tablespoon salt then add asparagus tips and cook for 2 minutes. Lift the tips from the water and transfer to the ice water bath for 2 minutes, then remove with slotted spoon and dry on paper towels. Place the fava beans in the boiling water and cook for 5 minutes. Transfer the beans to the ice water bath for 2 minutes then remove and drain. Add the asparagus rounds and peas to the boiling water and cook for 4 minutes then remove and transfer to the ice water bath and drain.

Rinse the reserved outer leaves of the leek under cold running water and place in the boiling water. Add the woody asparagus trimmings to the water. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until needed as the broth for the risotto. Remove the leek leaves and asparagus trimmings before cooking the risotto.

Skin the fava beans by pinching one end open and squeezing the opposite end to release the inner bean, discarding the skins.

In a large, heavy bottomed sauté pan, place the olive oil, half the butter (keep remaining butter cold), leeks, and 2 tablespoons water over medium heat. Sprinkle with salt and cook until the leeks are tender, and all the water has evaporated. Add the rice and toss to coat in the cooking oils using a wooden spoon. Toast the rice for a couple minutes, stirring constantly, until the rice grains edges are glassy and translucent with opaque white “eyes” in the center.

Pour two ladles of hot broth into the pan to cover the rice by a thin veil. Cook at a gentle simmer, stirring often, until a good portion of the broth has been absorbed, and the rice is no longer covered by liquid. Continue adding broth when needed to cover the rice and cook the risotto, stirring occasionally, for 13 minutes.

Add the cooked vegetables (not the asparagus tips) to the risotto and continue cooking, adding broth and stirring as needed, for 3 to 5 minutes until the rice is ‘al dente’, or tender yet firm to the bite, and the risotto is loose but with little liquid remaining. Stir in the chopped herbs and remove from heat.

Add the cold butter cubes and most of the grated cheese to the risotto (reserve a couple tablespoons to garnish). Vigorously whip the risotto using the wooden spoon to mantecare or blend and create a creamy emulsion that binds the grains. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed. Let the risotto rest for 5 minutes then pour onto warmed plates. Arrange the asparagus tips on each serving then sprinkle lightly with reserved cheese and serve.

You say tomato, I say “Pomodori al Riso”
Baked Rice Stuffed Tomatoes

June 24, 2016 By Deborah Dal Fovo 4 Comments

No sooner did I set foot in Italy last summer than the entertaining began. We just arrived in Tuscany and there was already a huge bash happening that night at the villa to celebrate Gianni’s niece’s 18th birthday. A gran gala complete with all the trimmings of an A-list affair had been in the planning stages for months…only for the junior jet-set. My daughter was going with all the cousins and an international guest list of youngsters flown in from London, Paris and beyond. Formal attire was de rigueur for the event — black tie for the boys and long gowns for the girls — and festivities would include champagne (perfectly legal for 18-year olds in Italy), white-glove dinner service, dancing under the stars…the whole shebang. Sounded like fun. But we, the “adults”, were not invited. Only the young and beautiful would attend — a kind of changing of the guard. “That’s ok,” my friend Maria Pia sniffed, “we’ll have our own party for all the parents at our house”. My usual question of “what should I make?” was answered with “qualcosa per un buffet” or something for a buffet dinner. At that exact moment, Maria Pia’s beautiful daughter strutted into the kitchen and announced with aplomb, “I’m wearing a red dress to the party.” Hmmm, I had something rosso on my mind but it was not a dress. There was no question what I would prepare for our dinner party that night and it was also red. Summer was in full swing with record heat waves so tomatoes were ultra-ripe and abundant. And, when you say tomato to me, I immediately think of…Pomodori al Riso.

Pomodori al Riso is a traditional dish from Rome that pays homage to height-of-summer tomatoes like only Romans can — by placing them center stage as divas of baked vegetables that seduce both the eye and the appetite. Voluptuous tomatoes — kissed first by the sun and then by the oven — are transformed into hollow vessels stuffed with fragrant, garlic-and-herb-infused rice that playfully peeks out from under wrinkly red “caps” perched atop their plump curves like festive hats. In addition to a stunning presentation and easy to serve portions, these intensely flavored stuffed tomatoes are prepared in advance and served at room temperature — making them perfect for summer entertaining.

As with all Italian cooking, making good stuffed tomatoes requires good ingredients: ripe yet FIRM tomatoes, excellent quality rice, fruity extra virgin olive oil, fresh mint, parsley and garlic plus…a little manual dexterity and a lot of patience (I’ll explain later). At the local vegetable stand, I chose tomatoes more-or-less the same size (slightly larger than a tennis ball) by gently squeezing each one to make sure it was firm enough to remain intact during baking. These were pomodori ramati, or cluster tomatoes, that are bright red, round and meaty with a herbaceous, vine-ripened scent. In fact, the ones I selected still had stems attached, some of which I’d leave on for presentation purposes.

Back in the kitchen, I sliced the rounded tops off the tomatoes to create “lids” then carefully scooped out the pulp, seeds and precious juices from inside each one to form hollow shells with thick walls. This required the use of a serrated grapefruit spoon and a bit of care to avoid piercing the delicate tomato flesh and outer skin (remember the patience I talked about). The hollow tomatoes were turned, cut side down, to drain while the stuffing was made. I pureed the tomato pulp and juices through a food mill to eliminate bitter seeds and tough core then poured in plenty of extra virgin olive oil (I talked about amazing Tuscan olive oil in this previous post). Next, using the resident mezzaluna — a half-moon shaped knife in every Italian kitchen — I made a battuto, or fine chop of garlic-mint-parsley. The rocking motion of the curved blade over this particular combination of herbs released a familiar aromatic scent that reminded me of another classic Roman dish I often make — Carciofi alla Romana — and gives the stuffed tomatoes that unmistakably Roman taste.

Rice plays a starring role in this dish and the quality is important. While Arborio works well and is commonly used, Carnaroli or Vialone Nano (also risotto rice) are even better because of their superior quality. I added the raw rice and minced herbs to the tomato juice and gave the mixture a good stir before letting it rest for about half an hour. While the rice soaked up moisture and flavor, I peeled and thickly sliced some potatoes.

With all the prep work done, it was time to put this dish together. I arranged the tomato shells upright in an oiled baking dish and filled them almost full with rice and juices before placing their lids back on. Then I strategically wedged potato slices in between the tomatoes to hold them snugly in place as they baked. The rice would absorb the liquid, plump and cook while the tomatoes baked being held upright by the potatoes that cooked at the same time. At that point I stopped to marvel at the brilliance of the Romans and their clever culinary creativity. But that wasn’t the only thing I was admiring. The sight of the assembled dish was so gorgeous that I grabbed my camera to capture the beauty of nature at work.

As a final gesture of love, I drizzled the tomatoes and potatoes with more olive oil and sprinkled with salt (tomatoes are very needy) before sliding them into the hot oven. The kitchen soon filled with an irresistible aroma, letting me know that the stuffed tomatoes were almost done. When I took them out of the oven after an hour, they were deeply bronzed with wrinkly skin and the potatoes soft with golden edges. I tasted the rice for doneness and it was tender, moist and very tasty. Now came the hard part, but it had nothing to do with work. Tradition dictates that pomodori al riso rest at least one hour before serving to allow flavors to mingle and marry. The temptation was very strong to sneak a tomato, but I resisted. Maria Pia had already set the table and plated the other items for the buffet. There was nothing left to do but wait for guests to arrive and admire our beautiful daughters in their long gowns as they headed off to the gala.

As we, “the adults”, sat around the large round table under the stars, music from the party at the villa drifted over through the trees and became the background sound to our animated dinner conversation. It was effortless, elegant Italian entertaining at its best. And tonight, Maria Pia’s daughter wasn’t the only lady in red. My baked rice stuffed tomatoes made a spectacular entrance on the table and were enjoyed by all. So, when you say tomato, I will always say “pomodori al riso”.

BAKED RICE STUFFED TOMATOES
POMODORI AL RISO

Created by Deborah Dal Fovo on June 14, 2016

Pomodori al Riso is a beloved Roman dish that is perfect for summer entertaining and as beautiful as it is delicious. Vivid red vine-ripened tomatoes are hollowed out and filled with rice marinated in the tomato’s own juices, olive oil, garlic and herbs then baked until golden, tender and intensely flavorful. © 2016 Deborah Dal Fovo. All rights reserved.

Prep Time: 45h
Cook Time: 60h

Serves: 8

Ingredients

8 medium, ripe yet FIRM round red tomatoes each weighing 5 to 6 ounces, preferably with stem leaves attached (cluster tomatoes work well)
1 cup/200g Arborio, Carnaroli or Vialone Nano rice (about 2 tablespoons for each tomato)
8 tablespoons/119ml extra virgin olive oil, plus more for greasing baking dish and drizzling
1 large garlic clove, finely minced (about 1 teaspoon)
1 handful fresh flat leaf Italian parsley leaves, finely chopped (about 1 tablespoon)
10 fresh mint leaves, finely chopped (about 1 teaspoon)
3 large Yukon Gold potatoes
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Instructions

Grease a 9 x 12 oven-proof baking dish with olive oil.
Wash and dry the tomatoes. Using a sharp knife, cut a horizontal slice about 3/8-inch off the stem top of each tomato to form a lid, leaving one side attached like a hinge if desired.
Working on one tomato at a time, use a serrated grapefruit spoon or small paring knife to cut around the inside perimeter of the tomato between the wall of flesh and inner pulp. Carefully scoop out the pulp, core, seeds and juice directly into a food mill set over a non-metallic bowl. Scrape out the tomato to create a hollow shell with thick wall of flesh on sides and bottom (about 3/8-inch), taking care not to pierce the flesh or skin while you work. Repeat the process with each tomato.
Sprinkle a bit of salt inside each tomato then turn them upside down on a cutting board to drain while you prepare the rice stuffing.
Puree the tomato pulp and juices through the food mill into bowl, discarding seeds and cores. If you don’t have a food mill, press the contents through a strainer with the back of a spoon into bowl or pulse contents in a food processor to liquify then strain to eliminate seeds and cores.
Add the raw rice, extra virgin olive oil, and minced garlic and herbs to the tomato juices. Season with 1-tablespoon salt and freshly ground pepper then stir to combine and let stand for 30 to 40 minutes.
Preheat oven to 375°F/190°C.
Pat each tomato shell dry, inside and out, with paper towels. Arrange the tomatoes, cut side up, in the oiled baking dish. Fill the tomato shells about 7/8 full with rice stuffing then spoon remaining tomato juices evenly each. Place the lids back on the tomatoes, matching up if separated.
Peel the potatoes and cut into thick slices. Wedge the potatoes in between and around the tomatoes to hold snugly in place. Drizzle the tomatoes and potatoes liberally with olive oil and sprinkle generously with salt.
Cover the baking dish with a sheet of foil and bake in the center of hot oven for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake, uncovered, for another 25 to 30 minutes, basting the tomatoes and rice with cooking juices every now and then.
The stuffed tomatoes are done when they are deeply bronzed with wrinkled lids, the rice is tender and moist, potatoes are soft inside yet crispy around the edges, and the cooking juices have thickened to a glaze-like consistency.
Remove from oven and let rest for at least 1 to 2 hours before serving warm or at room temperature as a appetizer, side dish or lunch entree.

A Warm Welcome Home – My Return to Tuscany
Tuscan Farro and Bean Soup

June 10, 2016 By Deborah Dal Fovo 9 Comments

It was almost midnight when the loud ping of my cell phone announced a message had arrived on WhatsApp. Must be from Italy, I thought, since all my friends here in California were probably asleep. I clicked open the phone, unprepared for the emotional surprise it held. “Gallena vi aspetta!” read the exclamation beneath a photo, “Gallena awaits you!” Those three little words and the image on that tiny screen seemed larger than life and triggered an unexpected wave of nostalgia to wash over me as hot tears flooded my eyes. There it was — Gallena — my Tuscan home-away-from-home and the place I longed to return to for so many years. It was waiting for me!

“Gallena vi aspetta!”

I studied the house in the photo like it was the face of a dear old friend — feature by familiar feature. It was just as beautiful as I remembered. The petite yet sturdy country house built a century ago of unique blush-colored stones seemed to glow in the sunlight. Its rosy hue was accentuated by forest green shutters adorning the facade and an opulent spray of flowering jasmine that framed the entrance in a regal archway. Like the well-calculated perspective of a Renaissance painting, the photo drew me in. When I noticed the open door that beckoned me inside with a warm, welcoming gesture, my heart did a little flip. I felt back home already.

The message was my friend Maria Pia’s way of making me feel good about my upcoming trip to Italy. I’d mentioned my fear to her about going back after being away for so long from the place I left my heart, lost my marriage and desperately missed every day. The photo was her way of saying “it’ll be all right…just come back.”

Italy had been my home for decades and the literal backdrop to my life story — and Gallena was a big part of that story. Gallena is a large rural estate owned by Maria Pia’s husband Gianni’s family located in the lush, green hills of Camaiore — a tiny town in Tuscany near Lucca perched high above the pristine beaches of the Versilia coast. The homes that dot the private hillside property belong to Gianni’s siblings and cousins. It’s where they gather on weekends to escape hectic city lives and a sacred place for quality time with family and invited friends. I am one of those lucky friends though they treat me like famiglia. Over the decades, my husband, children and I spent many idyllic summers, holidays and weekends there and, while I know many of the other houses inside and out, the home I know best is Maria Pia and Gianni’s. So many magical memories were made there and now I would return after endless days, months and years of waiting…wanting.

Once my daughter and I finally arrived in Italy, the car ride down to Tuscany from Milan was so full of chatter and catching up with our Italian friends that I barely noticed we’d arrived at Gallena until we were at the gate. The Range Rover barreled up the hill in twists and turns along the narrow country road, cutting through thick woods that blanketed the property. My heart raced in anticipation as we zig-zagged up the steep hill, each familiar curve bringing me closer to the house. “Would it still be the same?”, I asked myself then prayed “I hope so.” The tires growled on the gravel road as Maria Pia floored the accelerator to round the last hairpin turn before the house came into view in the distance. At last!

I didn’t need to walk through the door to know what was inside. I knew every detail by heart, especially the kitchen. Even blindfolded, I could walk in and cook a decent meal. A simple country cucina, it was the perfect mix of rustic, artsy and functional with everything needed to cook for a large crowd — and we were always a large crowd. Once inside I saw that everything was as I remembered. The familiar brushed aluminum collage of pots and pans hung, without rhyme or reason, like an abstract painting from a periwinkle blue frame nailed to the stucco wall. The white marble countertop from neighboring Carrara that was lovingly etched from decades of daily use. And the piece de resistance — a vintage wooden laundry ironing station — stood proudly in the middle of the room serving as the central workstation and center-of-life around which everything in the house seemed to happen.

The antique kitchen objects that embellished the walls gave the cucina its quirky, age-old character but were useful as well. Salt was pinched from porcelain spice drawers near the stove and Italian Moka coffeemakers stood ready to use on the hand-carved wooden drying rack. Although the kitchen wasn’t fancy and didn’t have the professional chef tools I use in the U.S., it was heaven to me — and just the inspiration I needed to make authentic Tuscan food again. I couldn’t wait to start cooking!

The opportunity came when my friends went to Milan for work and I stayed behind with our now-teenage children and played mamma to a group of delightful bravi ragazzi for the week. When everyone was headed back for the weekend, I wanted to prepare dinner to welcome them home. At the time, Italy was experiencing a record heat wave with temperatures in the high 90’s, so I hadn’t a clue what to make that was home-cooked and nurturing yet could be eaten warm or at room temperature…until I saw some freshly shelled Borlotti, or cranberry beans, at the local market. Perfetto, I thought, just perfect. With their distinctive ivory color and bright fuchsia marbling, borlotti are the crowns jewels of Italian legumes and have a short window of harvest time to take advantage of. In California I rarely, if ever, find these beans fresh and usually have to use the dried variety, so I was excited to cook with them again and knew just what to make. I would prepare the iconic, local farro and bean soup called Gran Farro della Garfagnana in the afternoon that we could eat at room temperature that evening to temper the heat of the setting sun.

In addition to the beans, I picked some fresh rosemary from the evergreen shrubs growing outside the kitchen door but needed another important item for this dish. Rummaging through the drawers of an antique grocery store cabinet that served as the kitchen pantry, I found just what I was looking for — farro. Known as emmer wheat in English, farro is an ancient grain grown in the nearby Garfagnana mountains high above the town of Lucca and is appropriately the star ingredient of this eponymous soup.

An exquisite grain used in lieu of rice in many Tuscan dishes, farro is an ancient strain of hard wheat with an easily recognizable oblong shape, sandy color and distinctive crease down the center. It has a pleasant nutty flavor and chewy texture and is rich in nutrients and fiber. In fact, it is said that Roman soldiers were fed a solid diet of farro to give them the strength needed to conquer the world. That’s quite a grain in my opinion!

I grabbed a big pot off the wall and started the soup by making a classic soffritto — the savory base used in many Italian soups, stews and sauces — by sautéing the holy trinity of chopped onions/carrots/celery in plenty of extra virgin olive oil that was pressed the previous autumn from olives grown on the property. Oh, how I missed living in Tuscany! There was never a lack of gorgeous green olive oil at my disposal. Next, I crushed a few whole garlic cloves with the palm of my hand and tossed them into the pot. This is when tradition normally dictates the addition of chopped pancetta, but there was none in sight so I sprinkled in extra chopped rosemary and sage, which are Tuscan cuisine’s signature herbs. Lastly, I added a pinch of peperoncino chili pepper plucked from the dried bouquet hanging decoratively on the wall and deglazed everything with a big splash of local white wine.

The soup had an amazing aroma even before I added chopped summer tomatoes that were so ripe you could smell the sunshine. Once the tomatoes cooked down, in went the fresh beans with a couple liters of water to cook at barely a simmer. After almost an hour, when the beans were tender and creamy, I scooped out about three-quarters worth and pureed them back into the pot using an old-fashioned food mill. I seasoned the soup with plenty of sea salt and freshly ground pepper then added the farro (using the perlato, or polished variety, that takes less time to cook) along with some diced potatoes, and simmered everything for another 20 minutes until the farro was al dente. Even in blistering heat wave temperatures, I was feeling incredibly happy to be in my Tuscan kitchen again!

It was then that I realized something else happened while I was cooking. As I stood stirring the soup, something stirred inside me. Maybe it was the intense heat or the heady fragrances filling my head, but suddenly the past didn’t matter anymore. All the sadness, fear, and hurt I was feeling had melted away — like the tomatoes in the soup. The only thing that really mattered to me now was that I was back in Italy again with my friends. Everything would be all right after all.

“Che bella zuppa!” Maria Pia exclaimed, “what a beautiful soup” as we poured ladles of it into shallow bowls to cool before dinner. Once everyone arrived and was tucked in around the dinner table, the sun did a graceful dive into the horizon casting a loving glow across our plates and a balmy evening breeze drifted in through open doors creating the perfect atmosphere for a reunion dinner. “Cin cin” we simultaneously chimed, raising our wine glasses in unison. “Buon appetito and welcome back Deborah. We missed you,” Maria Pia said, smiling knowingly at me across the table. This was the long-awaited moment I dreamed of and it truly was…a warm welcome home.

TUSCAN FARRO AND BEAN SOUP
Gran Farro della Garfagnana

Created by Deborah Dal Fovo on June 1, 2016

Copyright 2016 Deborah Dal Fovo. All rights reserved. This is my recipe using dried Borlotti beans so you can make this soup all year long. If you’re lucky enough to find fresh cranberry beans during the summer months, skip soaking and precooking beans and use the cooking procedure described in my post. See note below.

Prep Time: 20m
Cook Time: 2h

Yield: Serves 6 to 8

Ingredients

For the beans:

2 cups /350g dried Borlotti (cranberry) beans or 1 1/2 pounds/680g shelled fresh cranberry beans (see note below)
2½ quarts/2.5 liters cold water, plus more to soak dried beans if using
4 large garlic cloves, crushed and peeled (omit if using fresh beans)
Sprig of fresh fresh sage (omit if using fresh beans)

For the soup:

1/2 cup /125ml extra virgin olive oil, plus more to garnish
1 red onion, finely chopped
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
1 leek (white part only), finely sliced and rinsed under cold water
2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
2 celery stalks, trimmed and finely chopped
2 large garlic cloves, lightly crushed then peeled
4 ounces /115g pancetta, finely chopped (optional)
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary leaves, finely minced
4 fresh sage leaves, finely minced
Pinch of chili pepper flakes or chopped peperoncino
½ cup/125ml dry white wine (optional)
4 tablespoons tomato paste or 1/2 cup/125ml dense plum tomato puree
2 medium yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into small dice
1½ cups/260g farro perlato, preferably from Garfagnana
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Sort through the dried beans to eliminate any small stones or debris then place them in a large bowl and cover by 2 inches with cold water. Let the beans soak for 12 hours or overnight, during which time they will reconstitute and increase two to three times in volume.
Drain the beans and place in a large pot, preferably made of glazed earthenware. Add 2½ quarts/2.5 liters cold water, 4 garlic cloves and sprig of sage. Place over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot then reduce the heat to low and cook the beans at barely a simmer for about 50 minutes until tender, occasionally skimming off any foam that rises to the surface. Add 2 teaspoons salt and cook for another 10 minutes until beans are very tender. Scoop out ¼ of the whole beans with a slotted spoon and reserve. Discard the garlic and sage from the pot then puree the remaining beans with their cooking liquid using a food mill, emersion blender or food processor and set aside.
In a large heavy bottomed soup pot, heat the extra virgin olive oil over medium heat. Add the chopped onions, leeks, carrots, celery and cook the vegetables, stirring occasionally, until glazed and golden, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic cloves and pancetta and cook, stirring, for 4 to 5 minutes then stir in the rosemary, sage and chili pepper flakes and cook for another minute. Pour in the white wine, if using, and boil for a minute or two until all alcohol evaporates. Add the tomato paste or puree and season generously with salt then cook for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes begin to separate from the oil. Add the potatoes and stir to coat with cooking oils then add the pureed beans with their cooking liquid and bring to a lively simmer.
Rinse the farro well under cold, running water and add to the simmering soup. Cook for 20 minutes with the lid slightly askew, stirring occasionally to prevent the farro from sticking to the bottom of the pot, and adding more water if needed. Add the reserved whole beans to the pot and cook the soup for an additional 5 to 10 minutes until the farro is very al dente, tender yet quite firm to the bite, and the soup is medium-thick in consistency.
Remove from heat and taste to adjust seasoning if needed. Allow the soup to rest for at least 15 minutes before serving in shallow bowls with a generous drizzle of fruity extra virgin olive oil on top. Can be served hot, warm or at room temperature.
NOTE: If using fresh borlotti (cranberry) beans, skip the soaking and precooking steps (1 & 2) needed for dried beans. Substitute dried beans with the amount of fresh beans indicated in ingredient list, keeping quantities of other ingredients the same, and follow the procedure described in the narrative of my post by adding fresh beans directly to the soup during cooking process.