In the Canavese, ajucca is remembered as a wild herb that finds its way into a soup built around leftover bread. The pairing is modest on paper and generous on the table: field greens meeting the last of a loaf, the kind of dish that turns thrift into something you lean toward.
The documented method is architectural rather than stirred. Toasted slices and briefly cooked ajucche take turns in a deep baking dish, then broth, toma, grated cheese, butter and pork elements soak into the stack. Each layer drinks what the next one offers: heat, fat, a little salt, the green bite of the herb.
What the cook is after is not a bowl of free-swimming broth. The soup is meant to bake until it is soft through, then finish with a browned top. Spoon it and you meet bread that has given up its crunch without collapsing into mush, greens that still taste of the field, and a crust that invites the first bite.