Name: Mediterranean White Bean Soup
Prep time: 15 min
Cook time: 30 min
Total time: 45 min
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Mediterranean
Ingredients: 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil; 1 medium yellow onion, diced; 2 carrots, diced; 2 celery stalks, diced; 3 garlic cloves, minced; 1 teaspoon dried oregano; 4 cups vegetable broth; 2 cans (15 oz each) white beans, drained and rinsed; 1 bay leaf; 1 small zucchini, diced; 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped; Juice of 1 lemon; Salt and ground black pepper to taste

If I had a euro for every time I’ve made Mediterranean White Bean Soup, well… I’d probably have enough to buy a few rounds at the local café! There’s this one rainy afternoon I remember, windows fogging up and kids traipsing in with muddy boots, and this Soup simmering away just made the whole house feel like a warm sweater. Plus, honestly, I like anything that lets me use up stray veggies piling up in my fridge. Don’t even get me started on the time I accidentally used double the garlic (let’s just say, the vampires kept their distance for weeks). So—grab your biggest pot, a good wooden spoon, and let’s see where this goes.

So, why do I keep making this?

I make this when I can’t stand another sandwich for lunch, or when my friend Sam texts, “anyway you could whip up that beany thing?”. My family goes crazy for this because you can dunk bread in it. Like, I don’t know what it is about Soup that demands bread, but if I forget to serve it with a chunky loaf? There’s mutiny. Also, it’s one of those rare soups I can convince my picky eater (you know who you are) to eat without much bribery—except that one time I tried kale instead of spinach and got the side-eye for a whole evening.

Here’s what you’ll need (and what I sometimes substitute)

2 tablespoons olive oil (I’ve used sunflower oil in a pinch, just don’t tell my Greek aunt)
1 large onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced (actually, 4 cloves is better, but I play it safe when company’s over)
2 carrots, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 can diced tomatoes (about 400g); fresh tomatoes work, but I’m not usually that patient
2 cans white beans (like cannellini or navy, drained and rinsed)—My grandmother insisted on Goya, but honestly, any version works fine
1 bay leaf (optional, but it always feels so proper to add one)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (sometimes I leave it out if I’m out, but it’s nice!)
1 litre (about 4 cups) vegetable broth—If I’m being lazy, bouillon cubes work (please don’t judge)
Big handful chopped spinach (I use frozen sometimes—don’t worry, it works)
Salt and pepper, to taste
Juice of half a lemon (or more if you’re a citrus fiend)
Chopped fresh parsley, for garnish (if you remember)

How I put this together

Put a big heavy pot over medium heat, drizzle in your olive oil. Toss in onion, carrot, and celery; cook until they’re softened up, about 7 or 8 minutes. Sometimes I get impatient and turn the heat up—don’t do that. They’ll stick. This is usually the point where the cat decides to knock something off the counter.
Toss in your garlic and let it sizzle for about a minute. Smells good, right? Then sprinkle in your oregano and smoked paprika—give it a quick stir so the spices wake up.
Pour in the diced tomatoes, beans, bay leaf, and broth. Scrape the bottom if anything’s stuck (mine always is). Bring it to a nice bubble, then drop the heat to a gentle simmer. Pop on a lid—slightly askew; this is where I usually sneak a taste (sometimes two).
Let it go about 20 minutes. If it looks a bit weird or foamy, just give it a stir or skim off the froth. Add spinach in during the last 5 minutes (unless you forgot, which I do all the time—then just plop it in at the end, it’ll wilt anyway).
Fish out the bay leaf (if you remember). Squeeze in your lemon juice, taste for seasoning, and add salt and pepper as needed.
Ladle into big bowls, sprinkle parsley over (my little one loves making parsley rain), and serve with crusty bread. Dunk away.

Okay, notes after a few rounds of this

I’ve learned not to rush the carrot-celery-onion stage—otherwise that weird raw veggie bite hangs around.
If the soup is too thick, just add some more broth or water—no big deal. Actually, one time I used only one can of beans by accident, and it just became a very chunky stew (still disappeared fast).
On the off chance you totally over-salt it (been there)—add a splash of water and maybe another handful of spinach.

Variations I’ve actually tried (and a couple I wouldn’t recommend)

Kale instead of spinach: Works, but don’t skimp on the lemon or it tastes kind of muddy hmm.
Tossed in a parmesan rind once—magic, honestly. Just fish it out later.
Chickpeas instead of white beans: Makes it heartier but not quite as creamy. Still decent.
I once tried adding potatoes, but it got starchy and clumpy. Not my finest hour. Maybe skip that.
If you want a bit of heat, a pinch of red pepper flakes is fun (my husband is a fiend for spice).

Do you need fancy equipment?

Just a large pot or Dutch oven solves 99% of the problem. I do love my wooden spoon, and if you want to make it super creamy, a stick blender is nice—a potato masher also works in a pinch (I’ve gone the potato masher route more times than I’ll admit). No fancy mixer needed, promise.

How well does this keep?

Technically you can keep this in the fridge for 3 days (I’ve read that anyway—see Serious Eats’ guide). But honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! If you do have leftovers, it actually thickens up a bit, which I kind of love. Freezes decently too, but when you reheat it, you might need to add a splash of water or broth to loosen things back up. Still good as gold.

How I like to serve it (and a little tradition)

This soup is begging for a hunk of good bread—sourdough if I’ve planned ahead, any rustic loaf works. Sometimes I serve a big Greek salad alongside, but most days it’s just soup and bread (less dishes, who’s complaining?). My son dips his grilled cheese in it, which is, now that I think about it, pretty genius. Occasionally, if I’m feeling fancy, I’ll drizzle a bit of olive oil and a scatter of feta on top. If you want other ideas, this Greek blogger has some neat twists.

Pro tips (okay, lessons from past mistakes)

I once tried rushing the simmer step, and regretted it because the beans just tasted like beans in water—let it develop.
If you use fresh spinach, wash it three times (grit in soup is a real mood killer). Actually, bagged is easier, just saying.
Can’t stress enough—don’t add the lemon until the very end or your spinach goes brown and sad.

FAQ with real (and odd) questions I get

Can I use dried beans? Uh, you can, but soak them overnight and cook them first—otherwise, it’ll take ages. Plus, I always forget that step, so I usually stick with canned.
Is this vegan/gluten-free? Yep, vegan as can be (unless you add a parmesan rind, which, y’know, makes it veggie). Gluten-free too, but watch your bread choices.
Do you have to peel the tomatoes? I don’t, especially if using canned. Fresh ones, I’m lazy—I leave the skins. Doesn’t bother me, but if it bugs you, feel free.
Soup too thick? Easy, add water or broth. Too thin? Mash up some beans in the pot, or just call it brothy and move on.
Can I freeze it? Yes, but, weirdly, the spinach ends up looking a bit sad—flavor’s still good though.
What bread do you serve with it? Whatever’s not stale, honestly. Though classic French baguette works a charm.

Anyway, if you make this Mediterranean White Bean Soup, let me know if you do anything wild with it. (Or if your family also squabbles over the last bowl.) If you need some more bean inspiration, check out this version by a fellow blogger—it’s got a different spin, always good for shaking things up.

Now, go put the kettle on and get chopping. Sláinte to cozy soup nights!