Seupa Vapellenentse (Savoy Cabbage Soup)

[Celerity]

Like French onion soup went skiing in the Alps and came back heartier.

https://www.seriouseats.com/soueupa-alla-valpellinentze-savoy-cabbage-soup-recipe-11831033





I’ve had a lot of soups in my life: velvety bisques, brothy noodles, “stewps” that make deeply satisfying dinners. But this humble northern Italian cabbage soup might be my favorite, ever. Seupa vapellenentse, a regional winter dish from Valle d’Aosta in the Italian Alps (and occasionally seen in neighboring Piedmont), is not your standard bowl of broth. The name is in the local Valdôtain dialect—literally “soup from Valpelline.” In Italian you’ll see Zuppa di Valpelline and Zuppa alla Valpellinentze. What comes out of the oven is more like the gooey, molten top of French onion soup, only deeper, earthier, and, to me, far more interesting. I first had seupa vapellenentse years ago while skiing in the Italian Alps (I realize what an obnoxiously picturesque sentence this is). It was a meal that made me reconsider everything I thought I knew about bread and cabbage.

Between the snow outside and the smell of browned cheese and broth inside, it felt less like eating soup and more like being wrapped in a blanket of beef stock and mountain air. Every fall since, I've been chasing that flavor—trying to re-create the balance of sweet, tender cabbage, nutty rye, and tangy Alpine cheese that makes this dish so hauntingly good. My recipe stays as close to that memory as possible: a dish that's essentially a layered casserole disguised as a soup. It starts with Savoy cabbage, a variety that's a bit sweeter and more tender than the standard green kind. When braised with lardo or pancetta, onion, and a bay leaf, the cabbage melts into soft, silky ribbons that the savory broth clings to. A long, gentle simmer coaxes out its natural sweetness, which partners well with the salt and pork fat.



The Underrated Hero: Caraway (and Its Perfect Partner, Rye)

What really makes this dish sing for me isn't the cabbage or the cheese—it's the caraway that comes along for the ride with a lot of American rye breads. I can't help it. I have a deep, probably outsized love for caraway. It rarely ever gets the credit it deserves. It's a little old-world, a little unexpected, and just a pinch can completely transform a dish. It adds a subtle sweetness and a toasty, anise-like warmth that ties perfectly into the "black" rye bread traditionally used in this dish (which doesn't include caraway). And that rye is no background player either. Its earthy, robust flavor mirrors the Alpine setting this dish comes from, and it stands up beautifully to the rich broth and melty cheese. Cubing and slowly drying the bread in a low oven is key—it concentrates its flavor and gives it the structure it needs to soak up the broth without turning soggy. When those crisp cubes absorb the lard-scented cabbage and beef stock, and a hint of caraway drifts through, you get this incredible layering of nutty, herbal, and savory flavor that's rustic and refined.

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