Honestly, Split Pea Soup Just Feels Like a Hug
Okay, this one’s a real family classic. My mom used to make split pea soup every time the weather turned a bit grumpy (which in Yorkshire, let me tell you, is more than you’d think). The first time I tried making it myself, I managed to glue half the soup to the bottom of the pot. But you live and you learn, right? If you ever walk into my kitchen on a rainy Tuesday and catch a whiff of that earthy, warm, suspiciously green smell—well, you’ll know pea soup’s on.
Sometimes I chuck in a ham bone if we’ve had a roast, sometimes not; once I even tried making it with leftover sausages (don’t recommend, but it was edible). There’s just something comforting (and a little nostalgic) about stirring this big pot of green goodness. Plus, when the kids were tiny, I told them the color came form magic ogres—it backfired slightly when I had to convince them not all green food was ogre-made.
Why You’ll Love This (Or, Why I Keep Making It)
I make this when the weather’s cold or my brain feels foggy or, honestly, when my grocery budget’s a bit tight. My family goes a bit mad for this pea soup, especially with a hunk of crusty bread and whatever cheese is loitering in the fridge. It’s also one of those soups that’s forgiving—I’ve forgotten to soak the peas more than once and, barring a few extra minutes cooking, it turns out fine. Well, except that one time—but let’s not dwell on that. And yes, it’s proper hearty food! (Though, full disclosure, sometimes reheating it looks like a science experiment.)
Your Ingredients (Swaps & Cheeky Secrets)
- 2 cups dried split peas (green or yellow—my Nan liked yellow, but I lean green!)
- 1 big onion, chopped (red or white, honestly, I’m not fussy)
- 2 carrots, diced (or a hefty handful of baby carrots if that’s all you’ve got left in the veggie drawer)
- 2 celery stalks, sliced thin (or use half a fennel bulb if you’re feeling posh, but only if).
- 2 garlic cloves, minced (I’ve definitely used that stuff in a jar in a pinch)
- 1 bay leaf (but no tears if you don’t have it)
- 7–8 cups veggie or chicken broth (or use water and sneak in a knorr stock cube like I do when supplies are low)
- 2 tsp salt (plus a whiff more at the end, probably)
- 1/2 tsp pepper (black, but a twist of white if you’ve got it)
- 1 cup chopped ham (optional; or diced bacon, or absolutely nothing meaty if that’s not your thing)
- 1 tablespoon olive oil (or, honestly, any mild oil)
Let’s Get Cooking (But Don’t Get Stressed)
- Start by sweating: Chuck your onion, carrots, and celery in a big pot with olive oil over medium heat. Stir around for, oh, 5 minutes. They’ll soften but don’t let them brown—unless you forget, in which case, as long as it’s not burnt to a crisp, it’s fine.
- Add garlic + peas: Garlic in, let it sizzle for about a minute. Pour in your split peas and stir to coat—here’s where I always think, this will never be enough, and then ends up making enough for a scout troop.
- Pour in broth, bay leaf, and seasoning: Add broth (or water + cubes), bay leaf, salt, and pepper. If you’re using ham, now’s the time. Or, leave it aside until the end if you prefer it chunkier, actually—up to you.
- Simmer time: Bring it up to a gentle boil, then immediately crank it down to a soft bubble. Put the lid on—slightly ajar—because otherwise it occasionally tries to leap out when you’re not looking. Stir every now and then, about 45 minutes (or until the peas have kind of dissolved and it looks like, well, pea soup!)
- Final flourish: Fish out the bay leaf. Taste and adjust salt/pepper—a squeeze of lemon is surprisingly good here, and sometimes I add a pinch of smoked paprika if I’m feeling fancy. I usually sneak a taste at this point and burn my tongue. Every time.
- Adjust texture: Like it chunky? Leave as-is, maybe mash up a bit with a spoon. For a velvety soup, hit it with a stick blender a few times—but don’t go too wild or it looks, er, like baby food.
Notes I Wish Someone Had Shared With Me
- If your peas are a bit old, they take longer to cook. Don’t panic, just keep simmering—and maybe check your email or watch a cat video (see, Cole and Marmalade if you’re bored).
- Ham hocks make it super flavorful, but honestly, store-bought diced ham is quicker (and cheaper). If you go vegetarian, consider a teaspoon of smoked paprika for depth.
- It thickens a lot as it cools. Sometimes I have to add more water when serving. Feels like a magic trick, but less impressive—just inevitable.
Variations I’ve Actually Tried (For Better or Worse)
- Once swapped out carrots for sweet potato—gave it a nice twist, actually.
- Substitute half the split peas with red lentils to speed things up. Weirdly it worked, though it tasted less…pea-y?
- One time I added curry powder—my spouse loved it, I thought it was weird. Guess it’s subjective.
- Tried tossing in some chopped spinach at the end for color. Turns out, it goes kind of murky and the kids wouldn’t touch it. Won’t try that one again!
Equipment (And Emergency Fixes)
Straight up, a big heavy-bottomed pot is best—less chance of scorching. But I’ve used a cheap thin-bottomed pan with a spare lid and just stirred more. If you’ve got an immersion blender, great. Otherwise, just mash with a potato masher or even the back of a ladle. (I wouldn’t try a regular blender unless you like cleaning up pea soup from the ceiling. Trust me.)
Storage (Confession Time)
This soup keeps in the fridge for about 3–4 days, supposedly. Though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! If by some miracle you do have leftovers, it’ll be thicker, so just add a splash of water when reheating. Apparently it freezes well, but every time I try to freeze some for ‘next week’ someone eats it first. You could try portioning into old yoghurt pots (the plastic ones; learned that the hard way).
How I Serve It (Real-Life Traditions)
Big bowl, thick slice of sourdough or even toast, lots of black pepper on top. Sometimes (if it’s a Friday and we’re feeling lazy) just with croutons. And if you’re feeling proper daring, try a little dash of sharp mustard as a topping—odd, but works for my lot. My cousin swears by a spoonful of Greek yoghurt but, honestly, to each their own.
Lessons Learned (Or Don’t Do What I Did)
- Once tried rushing the simmering stage—end result: half raw peas. Not pleasant. Just let it bubble away gently.
- Always check the salt at the end, especially if you used salty ham or bouillon cubes. Too salty soup is easier to avoid than to fix (I tend to forget this and end up chugging water all night).
- Don’t walk away for too long. Besides maybe catching up on Deb’s split pea soup wisdom, keep an ear out for the burble; it can catch on the bottom.
FAQ—Because People Honestly Ask Me These!
- Do I have to soak the split peas?
- Nah, generally you don’t have to. But if yours are seriously ancient (like, older than your last New Year’s resolution), soaking overnight helps a bit. If you forget, just cook slightly longer—no big drama.
- Is it vegetarian?
- Totally can be. Just skip the ham and make sure your bouillon is veg-friendly. Frankly, it’s still delicious (though maybe add that smoked paprika thing I mention above).
- Can I use yellow split peas instead?
- Yup. Flavor’s a bit milder, but I like it—reminds me of the soup from school dinners, in a good way (mostly).
- Can you freeze split pea soup?
- Supposedly yes! Just let it cool before putting in tubs. And leave some headroom because it expands a little when frozen. Don’t ask me how I know.
- What if it gets too thick?
- Happens all the time. Just add hot water (or more stock if you want), stir, and taste for seasoning again.
By the way, if you’re curious about legumes in general, this BBC Good Food resource is proper useful—and oddly fun to browse. Anyway, hope you love your split pea soup adventure as much as my slightly chaotic kitchen does!
Ingredients
- 2 cups dried split peas, rinsed
- 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
- 2 medium carrots, diced
- 2 celery stalks, diced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 8 cups vegetable broth
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
Instructions
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1Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery; sauté for 5-7 minutes until vegetables are softened.
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2Add garlic and cook for 1 minute, stirring frequently until fragrant.
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3Add split peas, vegetable broth, bay leaf, and dried thyme. Stir to combine.
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4Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 1 hour 30 minutes, or until split peas are tender and soup thickens.
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5Remove the bay leaf. Season with salt and pepper to taste. For a smoother texture, use an immersion blender to puree part of the soup if desired.
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6Serve hot, garnished with fresh herbs or croutons if desired.
CLICK FOR NUTRITION INFO
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Approximate Information for One Serving
Serving Size:
1 serving
Calories:
270cal
Protein:
16 gg
Fat:
5 gg
Saturated Fat:
0g
Trans Fat:
0g
Cholesterol:
0mg
Sodium:
0mg
Potassium:
0mg
Total Carbs:
46 gg
Fiber:
0g
Sugar:
0g
Net Carbs:
0g
Vitamin A:
0
Vitamin C:
0mg
Calcium:
0mg
Iron:
0mg
Nutrition Disclaimers
Number of total servings shown is approximate. Actual number of servings will depend on your preferred portion sizes.
Nutritional values shown are general guidelines and reflect information for 1 serving using the ingredients listed, not including any optional ingredients. Actual macros may vary slightly depending on specific brands and types of ingredients used.
To determine the weight of one serving, prepare the recipe as instructed. Weigh the finished recipe, then divide the weight of the finished recipe (not including the weight of the container the food is in) by the desired number of servings. Result will be the weight of one serving.
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