By Chef Sebastian Carosi
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 30 minutes
Yield: 4-6 servings
Total THC/CBD: depends on the potency of the products used
Status: a stoup (somewhere between a soup and a stew) – Portuguese comfort food
From the cannabis pantry: cannabis olive oil
Chef’s strain recommendation: sorbetto by 1937 Farms (sunset sherbert x zkittlez x f10 magnum opus)
Cutting board, chef’s knife, handheld immersion blender, medium stock pot, large spoon, ladle, bowls
3 tbsp cannabis infused olive oil (an additional 3 tablespoons will be needed further in the recipe)
1 medium sweet onion (about 1½ cups peeled and medium diced)
9 cloves garlic (crushed and rough chopped)
5 medium cooked white potatoes (medium diced)
1½ quarts organic blonde chicken stock
1½ -2 quarts water (depends on how thick you like your soup)
1 lb linguisa sausage (sliced into ¼ inch rounds)
3 tsp jacobsen sea salt flakes
1 tsp fresh cracked black pepper
3 tbsp cannabis infused olive oil
½ tsp red pepper chili flakes
1 lb organic kale (rinsed and rough chopped small)
¼ lb fresh young cannabis fan leaves (rinsed and rough chopped)
How To Make It
--In saucepan add 3 tablespoons cannabis oil, sweat onion & garlic over low heat for 4-5 minutes then add potatoes and cook an additional 4-6 minutes stirring occasionally.
-Add the water, stock, salt & pepper, chili flakes and bring to a boil, lower to a simmer for 20 minutes.
-In a separate pan cook sausage until it has released some of its fat (about 8 minutes), drain and set aside.
-To the stock and potato pot mixture add one big handful of kale and slightly pureé the soup with a handheld immersion blender.
-do not puree the soup all the way.
-Add the browned sausage rounds to the soup and simmer an additional 5 minutes.
-Stir in the remaining finely chopped kale, cannabis leaves, and cannabis oil into the soup, simmer about 3 minutes or until the greens are tender but still bright vibrant green.
-Remove the pot from the heat.
-Adjust the salt and pepper to taste.
-Serve the soup warm in a bowl with a soup spoon and a crusty chunk of artisan bread.
Equipment + Product source
www.magicalbutter.com (botanical extractor)
www.jacobsensaltco.com (Oregon sea salt)
Growing up Italian in America – When You Don’t Eat Much Italian Food
Having a family that immigrated from Italy in the mid 1900’s. My grandparents brought with them a rich appreciation for their Italian culture, especially the food. Although I grew up preferring a diet of lo Mein, Pan Sit, Lumpia, fried plantainos and double cheeseburgers (let’s be honest now). That is probably a big reason why my childhood heroes were not those wearing bright blue spandex tights or flying through the air to rescue falling kittens. Instead I was content to admire my neighborhood gangsters. And by gangsters, I mean that stereotypical gangster we all watch movies and documentaries about today.
My heroes could command any room with just their presence. Whether in my neighborhood donut shop, a court of law, or seated next to me at my favorite neighborhood eatery; there surrounded them an air of respect and deference. You saw them everywhere because they were and still are a part of your community. In my neighborhood I knew most of them and their families by name. They were my neighbors… the kids I played with. And deep down they were all more kindhearted and giving than most of the teenaged high school girls operating on social media these days. The most important part of this culture, in my eyes at least, was the diversity in the neighborhoods I lived in. People from every ethnic group were celebrated (and sometimes hounded) for their family’s particular favorite recipe. Back then, food seemed to bring everyone together, whether at the table or in the park. Through my eyes, and maybe my eyes only, these Italian immigrants were the most interesting men of honor to me. I saw most of them as a sort of Robin Hoods of Sherwood Forest… but in the urban jungle of Providence, Rhode Island. Some ruled through fear but most never had to, their presence was felt. It wasn’t until I sat paying my debt to society for plants and paper, I began to realize how much these things influenced me growing up. For days, months, years, I sat in a cell and wondered how I would cope with the shame of being incarcerated, labeled an ex-con forever… for plants and paper. As it can be, my thoughts were worse than the reality of the situation. When Martha Stewart went to the joint for insider trading, I decided to let go of my thoughts about how my cannabis consumption could affect my career and of returning to the penitentiary for possession of an agricultural crop. I stopped letting the fear of losing the 82,000 a year executive chef gig at some hoity toity inn, visited by Washington DC socialites, dictate my decisions. I took a moment to admire again, those “made men” of Providence and their complete and utter appreciation for the culinary treasures and delights of other countries and cultures and decided to live it.
When I lived up on Federal Hill better known as “The Hill” in Providence it was a daily habit of mine to grab my morning sffoggiell and espresso at the café at the corner of … and … across from de pascually square. Going out of their way daily to either send their underbosses or copos to get Chinese…, Thai… Iranian…, Vietnamese…., Laotian…, Russian…, Dominican…, Puerto Rican…, Cape Verdean…, Haitian…, and of course American cheeseburgers and apple pie. One day I was asked to make soup for a certain unnamed underboss of the most well know organized crime family between New York City and Bean Town. He wanted to open a Portuguese joint. Trust was already established because my grandmother worked for this gangster’s father. She ran his laundry business and was also his trucking companies’ office manager for 20+ years. He had eaten my food on several occasions. I was super “fanboy” happy when the servers would come tell me of his nightly arrival at the Blue Grotto where I was the sous chef at the time. I truly felt that connection with him, with my community and to the food culture through this Italian mentor of mine. It was that respect for another culture that I was drawn to. We need this more than ever these days, so take some time to explore another culture and get to know their food, their art, their language, and even their countries geography. But most of all, get to know them as people, as your neighbor. And let’s not forget how much that particular organized crime underboss enjoyed this caldo verde soup I made him in the back of that Italian social club, up on Federal Hill in Providence, RI back in the mid 90’s. That soup making experience helped forge my culinary career and it’s diverse range of cuisines and depth of ethnic cooking knowledge. With the current political climate and surmounting injustices playing out before our eyes, it’s definitely the time to celebrate the diverse cultures that make up every city in this country. Try starting with a warm of this caldo verde and a big ass piece of crusty artisan bread and maybe offer your neighbor a bowl. Some day you may need one offered to you. Even though back then I didn’t have the abilities to add the fresh cannabis leaves please enjoy this updated version.