Let’s Talk About This Chicken Pozole (And Why I Keep Making It)

So, here’s the thing. Chicken pozole is basically my “I don’t know what to cook but want to feel like a kitchen wizard” answer. My aunt Linda once made it for a birthday where everybody (even my picky cousin) had second helpings—which, if you’ve met my family, you know means it was a miracle. It’s hearty, cozy, and just spicy enough that my teenagers act like I made actual magic. Every time I cook up a batch, the whole house smells like a hug. And yes, once I absolutely splattered broth down my shirt trying to taste it too early—it’s dangerous being this impatient. (Also, I always forget my kitchen window is open so now my neighbor asks for a bowl every time…)

Why You’ll Really Like This, Promise

I make this when I want something warm for those weird spring days that can’t decide if they’re actually winter. Also: my family goes crazy for this because they can pile on whatever toppings they like (one’s obsessed with avocado, another drowns his in radishes). And hey, even if you forget to soak the hominy—you’ll still end up with something you want to eat straight from the pot. I used to get frustrated chopping onions (crying like a cartoon), but now I just pretend I’m in some old-school movie montage and it somehow helps. Plus, it’s perfect for those days where time slips away and you barely know where your sock went.

Stuff You’ll Need (But Substitute Freely!)

2 big chicken breasts (or thighs! I sometimes use a rotisserie chicken in a pinch—don’t judge)
One 28-ounce can of hominy, drained (My grandmother always insisted on Goya, but honestly, whatever’s cheapest at the store works too)
1 large onion, chopped (red onion if you want more bite. Or, um, shallots once when I ran out—surprisingly fine)
3 cloves garlic, minced (Well, “cloves”… sometimes I just dump in pre-chopped stuff from a jar)
1 jalapeño, sliced (optional, seed it if you’re as wimpy as I am about spice some days)
6 cups chicken broth (Better Than Bouillon is my shortcut, but boxed is great)
1 tablespoon dried oregano (Mexican if you have it, otherwise the usual green stuff is ok)
1 teaspoon ground cumin (or toss in a dash more for extra flavor, I do)
Salt and pepper (because, obviously)
Oil (olive or honestly, whatever’s hanging around)

Toppings: Chopped cilantro, shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, avocado, lime wedges, tortilla chips… whatever makes you happy. My youngest swears by sour cream—not traditional, but who am I to judge?

How I Actually Make This (With a Few Side Quests)

First, heat a splash of oil in a big pot—like, medium heat is fine. Toss in onions and garlic, sauté till they smell good and look a little see-through, 3–4 minutes. (This is where I usually sneak a taste—don’t worry if it looks a bit weird at this stage, onions always get prettier.)
Stir in cumin, oregano, and some salt and pepper. Let it mingle for maybe 30 seconds. Add chicken pieces (skinless is easiest) and pour in all the broth. If your chicken’s still kind of frozen, don’t stress—it’ll just take a bit longer.
Bring to a gentle boil, then lower the heat and let it simmer. Chicken should cook through in about 18–22 minutes (but hey, check; I once pulled it out too soon, no bueno).
Take the chicken out, shred it with two forks, then toss it back in—resist eating all the shreds, I dare you.
Add drained hominy and sliced jalapeño. Let everything simmer another 8–10 minutes. (Honestly, this is when my spoon “accidentally” ends up in the pot.)
Taste soup. Add more salt if it needs it, or water if it’s looking more like stew than soup.
Spoon into bowls and let everyone pile on toppings. (Leftovers? I think it tastes even better the next day—if it survives that long.)

Notes I Learned the Hard Way

One time I doubled the jalapeño and, uh, had to eat with a glass of milk nearby. So start gentle on the spice—you can always add more.
If fresh hominy shows up at your market, definitely grab it. But don’t plan your life around it—the canned stuff really is fine.
Bite risk: shred chicken into bigger chunks for those who dislike “stringy” textures (looking at you, Uncle Pete).

Stuff I’ve Tried Changing (Some Good, Some… Not So Much)

Added canned green chiles once—honestly? It was delicious. Give it a try if you like extra tang.
Tried tossing in leftover corn instead of hominy. Didn’t quite hit the spot. Corn just goes mushy, I’m telling you.
Pork instead of chicken? It’s classic, but takes way longer. Save for a chill Sunday, maybe.

What You Need (And What to Do if You Don’t Have It)

Big soup pot (“Dutch oven” if you want to feel fancy… but honestly, I’ve made this in the world’s saddest stockpot and it’s fine)
Chef’s knife (paring knife works in a pinch; it’ll just take longer—plus, you get a mini arm workout!)
Ladle, or if you’re out, a big mug works—I speak from experience.

Storing Your Pozole (If It Even Lasts That Long)

In theory: refrigerate in a big container for up to 3 days. In my reality: it’s gone by lunch the next day, so I couldn’t tell you about day three. Freezes fine, but the hominy goes a tad soft if you leave it too long—so I try not to.

This Is How We Eat It (But You Do You)

If it’s Sunday, I pull out big bowls and a lazy pile of tortilla chips for scooping. My brother adds hot sauce, my kids crush chips in (makes it messy but fun) and I sneak avocado slices and cabbage slaw. Sometimes someone asks for “that salsa you made last week”—here’s a decent salsa guide if you want to level up. Or if you fancy fresh tortillas, this walkthrough is a lifesaver (not, uh, that I always make my own… just when I’m feeling extra fancy).

Pro Tips (From My Own Epic Fails)

Don’t skip sautéing the onions. I once rushed this step and regretted it because the soup tasted flat, somehow? Let them get a bit golden—worth the extra couple of minutes.
If you need to reheat it, add a splash of water or broth—the hominy loves to suck up liquid overnight.
Topping advice: don’t dump all your lime juice in at the start! Squeeze fresh over your bowl, trust me, it’s a game changer.

Your Actual Questions, Answered (Because People Ask the Darndest Things)

Q: Can I use leftover cooked chicken?
A: Yup! Skip the boiling step; just add it in with the hominy—give it time to warm through. (I do this with rotisserie chicken all the time. No shame.)
Q: What if I hate hominy?
A: You could try chickpeas—they have a totally different vibe, but it works. However, it’s not really pozole then, just a tasty soup.
Q: How spicy is it?
A: Mild, unless you go wild with jalapeños or toss in chipotles. (Once I used serranos—regret. Sweated like I ran a marathon.)
Q: Is this kid friendly?
A: Totally, if you skip or seed the jalapeño. My youngest is a spice wimp, so I do a split pot: hot for grown-ups, plain for the mini crowd.
Q: Can I make it in an Instant Pot?
A: For sure! I do 12 minutes on manual for the chicken part, quick release, then dump back in with hominy. Super handy when I’m running late (like, all the time).

Anyway, that’s my take on Chicken Pozole—it’s the kind of soup that feels like putting on warm socks after a cold day, only tastier. If you want to dive deeper into pozole history or fancy learning the difference between red and green versions, here’s a great read. And hey, if you ever figure out how to keep soup off your shirt, let me know.

Easy Chicken Pozole