Italian Wedding Soup That’ll Make You Forget Every Other Soup Exists

Here’s the truth: most soups? They’re filler food. Salted water with vegetables floating around like half-drowned survivors. Forgettable.

But Italian Wedding Soup—done right—is different. It’s rich, it’s rustic, it’s got meatballs bobbing in broth like tiny promises of happiness. It’s filling without turning you into a bloated walrus. It’s elegant without being fussy. And the kicker? It’s stupidly simple once you know the trick.

And no, it has nothing to do with weddings. “Minestra maritata” means “married soup”—as in the marriage of flavors. Meat and greens, cozy together like Sinatra and whiskey. That’s the love story.

Here's the recipe:

What You’ll Need (a.k.a. The Arsenal)

For the meatballs:

• Breadcrumbs + milk (that panade keeps ’em juicy, don’t skip it)

• Half beef, half Italian sausage (flavor bomb combo)

• Parmesan, freshly grated, none of that powder in a green can

• One egg (the glue)

• Salt & pepper

For the soup:

• Olive oil

• Onion, celery, carrots (the holy trinity of broth)

• Garlic (and lots of it—don’t insult Italy with just one clove)

• Chicken broth (good stuff, not boxed water)

• Italian seasoning

• Tiny pasta (acini de pepe, or fine, cheat with orzo)

• Spinach (or escarole if you want to flex old-world authenticity)

How to Make It (without losing your mind)

1. Meatballs first. Breadcrumbs + milk = paste. Add meat, parm, egg, S&P. Mix with your hands, but don’t beat it like it owes you money—gentle is key. Roll 1” meatballs. You’ll get about 40-45. Good. More meatballs, more joy.

2. Brown them. Heat the pot until it’s actually hot (most people screw this part up). Oil in. Meatballs go in batches. Let them sear. Don’t fiddle. Brown = flavor.

3. Veggies in. Same pot, throw in onion, celery, carrots. Sauté until they stop looking raw and start smelling like dinner. Garlic last—burn it and you’re dead to me.

4. Build the broth. Pour in chicken stock, Italian seasoning, scrape up those browned bits. Meatballs back in. Bring it to a rolling boil.

5. Pasta time. Toss in your acini de pepe. Let it simmer 10 minutes, stir occasionally so it doesn’t cement to the bottom.

6. Greens in. Last step—spinach (or escarole if you’ve got the patience). Let it wilt. Done. Taste. Adjust salt and pepper like you mean it.

Serve with extra Parmesan. The good kind. Heap it on like snow in Buffalo.

“Don’t Screw This Up” Tips

• Hot pan, always. Cold pan = meatballs glued to the bottom, and you’ll curse my name.

• Don’t overmix the meatballs. Think “light touch,” not “cement mixer.”

• Want leftovers? Cook pasta separately. Otherwise, it’ll suck up all your broth overnight and you’ll end up with a stew.

This isn’t just soup. It’s comfort. It’s tradition. It’s a way to turn a lousy Tuesday into something memorable. And if you make this once? You’ll make it again. And again.