First, the stew: Cannellini Bean and Kale Stew

1 lb cannellini beans, soaked overnight and drained

8 cups kale, thoroughly washed, stems removed and chopped into bite size pieces.

4 Tbsp olive oil

1 large sweet onion, finely chopped

1 large carrot, finely chopped

1 medium parsnip, finely chopped

1 large rib celery, finely chopped

4 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 Tbsp tomato paste

1 large bunch Italian parsley, finely chopped

1 and ½ tsp died sweet basil

1 and ½ tsp dried thyme

1 tsp oregano

½ tsp dried coriander

2 bay leaves

4 cups vegetable broth or chicken broth

3-4 cups water or more

Kosher or sea salt and fresh black pepper to taste. (With beans, wait to add the salt until the beans are tender.)

To serve – drizzle with very fine olive oil and a generous sprinkling of very good Parmesan or Romano cheese.

In a large stew pot with a lid or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil. Add the onion, carrot, parsnip and celery. Saute over medium heat until the vegetables are quite soft, but not brown. Add the garlic cloves, tomato paste and parsley, heating until the garlic scent is heavy and the tomato paste is sticky. Add the dried herbs, heating briefly. Add the stock and some of the water (reserving a bit) and bring to a simmer. Add the soaked beans. Make sure they are well covered with liquid. Cook at a lowish simmer with the lid slightly ajar, stirring every so often, until the beans are tender; start checking them after about an hour and fifteen minutes. (Beans are mysterious. Sometimes they want an hour, sometimes they want two. Give them what they want. They will repay you.) Add the kale, one handful at a time, pushing the leaves down into the stew to heat, adding more liquid if the consistency is too thick. Taste for salt and pepper. Simmer for another 10 minutes, or until the greens are tender to your liking.

Ladle into wide bowls and serve with olive oil, grated cheese, and slices of sturdy bread for dipping and scooping. Luxuriate in warmth that spreads from the inside of your tummy to the tips of your ears.

Now, the story: This recent cold snap in Florida has had everyone remembering other record cold. Lots of "the coldest I’ve ever been..." stories. This one is mine.

For several years, I was a volunteer and volunteer coordinator at an animal control shelter.

Charles was one of my fellow volunteers. Tall guy. Narrow, sloping face and thin legs, like an inbred Irish Setter. Doltish. Cheerful. Approaching sixty but loose-limbed in the way of a younger man. He was an expert on obscure terriers and searched the faces of our mutts for rare finds. "He’s part British Snobbinghamshire Terrier," he’d claim. "The British are liver and white, while the American Snobbinghamshire Terriers are sometimes liver and white but more often black and white with some liver markings." I’m pretty sure he was making up some of those breeds.

Most beginning volunteers were heavy on ideas. They looked at our high-kill shithole and saw potential for color and growth; they planned projects, scheduled meetings. After a few weeks of body and soul crushing work – dozens of pitifully soiled puppies and kittens to be bathed and dipped; more than fifty kennels to be cleaned of feces, urine and often vomit; scores of dogs to be exercised in small groups; head-high stacks of food bowls and litter boxes in the sink; pounds of pungent laundry -- the ideas dried up. No more talk of flowers in the exercise yard. A few weeks after that, they dodged my phone calls and fell off the volunteer list permanently. Charles never ran out of ideas or the energy to communicate them. I’ll give him that.

The temperature in the kennels was rarely better than miserable, whether it was hot or cold outside. On one particularly cold February morning I was gathering soiled blankets and food bowls, Charles following behind me like a tail of damp toilet paper. I was wearing a pair of overalls over long johns, a sweatshirt, thick socks, rubber boots, and a bedraggled pink jacket with a faux fur-lined hood (borrowed from a rack in the laundry room), and I was freezing.

From a back kennel came the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Snarling, yelping, barking, whining. Surprisingly, fights were uncommon in the adoption kennels. I ran to break them apart before they could do harm to one another. Fighting dogs and injured dogs were quickly dispatched by the kennel supervisor. New dogs took their place. I was relieved when I realized the problem was that one dog had his jaw hooked under the collar of the other. The hooked dog snarled and jerked to break free. The other dog yelped and barked in alarm."Get the scissors, " I yelled to Charles.

Both dogs were large, frantic and confused. Wrestling play had turned into something unexpectedly combative. They thrashed around me while I worked on the stubborn clip of the collar, my hands numb and ineffective with cold. "Scissors!" I yelled.

Suddenly, I was hit in the back with a blast of water. Incited by ice water, the dogs pulled even more violently against one another. Then I squeezed the clip just right and it released. The dogs sprang apart, each heartily offended and distrustful of the other. And wet. We were all wet.

I turned, dripping, to find Charles holding a sputtering hose. "Scissors. I asked for scissors," I said.

"Oooooh! I thought you said, ‘hose,’" he said. He paused for a minute, and laughed. "I wish you could see yourself. You look like you just won an Eskimo wet t-shirt contest."

I might have found that funny if not for the chill settling deep into my bones. By the time I got the dogs toweled off, the kennel squeegeed dry, so that I could head home, I was definitely colder than I had ever been. I felt like I was made of marble. I could have rolled out pie crust on my belly.

Charles did apologize, while continuing to chuckle. He kept repeating the phrase "Eskimo wet t-shirt contest" as if he needed to remember it for a stand-up routine he’d been working on. And then, "I guess it should be Eskimo wet parka contest, huh?"

As a volunteer, Charles lasted longer than most. Enough dolt and cheer can get you through a lot of grim situations. But eventually he too dodged my phone calls.