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Split Pea Soup

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December 18, 2025

If Soup Could Hug You Back: My Split Pea Story

So I make split pea soup way too often—okay, maybe not too often if you ask my family, but it’s become my go-to comfort food, especially when I don’t know what else to throw in a pot. Growing up, my dad would let the soup bubble for hours, house smelling of onions and thyme, everyone pretending they weren’t hungrily lurking around the kitchen. Once, I dropped (okay, launched) a ladleful onto the floor, and the dog loved me for a week. I think this soup forgives all—messy mistakes, missing ingredients, whatever.

Why You’ll Want to Make This—And Maybe Hide Leftovers

I make this when the weather decides to be as moody as me on a Monday. Or when I have some random leftover ham bone lurking in the freezer (it’s like discovering treasure every single time). My family goes a bit wild for it because it’s thick enough to be stew, and tastes even better after a day or two (if it somehow survives that long). Sometimes I get frustrated fishing out bay leaves, but hey, that’s what makes it real soup, right?

What You’ll Need (Substitutions Galore)

2 cups dried split peas (green is what I use, but yellow works; my brother claims you can mix them—honestly, it’s fine)
1 meaty ham bone or about 200g diced smoked ham (No ham? Throw in some smoked turkey, or just do veggie and add extra carrots)
1 big onion, chopped (Sometimes I get lazy and use a shallot or two. My grandmother used red onions, but I can’t really tell the diff)
2 celery stalks, diced (Or just use one and pretend it’s two)
2-3 carrots, chopped (I’ve slipped in parsnip in a pinch. Actually, once I used sweet potato, but that got weird)
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (If you’re not a garlic fan, one is fine… I can’t relate though)
1 bay leaf (I once forgot this entirely and nobody noticed, but I still put it in)
1 tsp dried thyme (Fresh is “fancier,” but pantry stuff is perfectly alright)
Salt and pepper, to taste (But go easy early on, especially if using ham, since it can be salty)
6 cups water or low-sodium chicken/veg stock (I’ve also done half and half—the world didn’t end)

How I Make Split Pea Soup (With Some Doubtful Moments)

Start by rinsing the split peas. Don’t skip this, unless you’re really living dangerously. Pick out any little pebble impostors, give them a rinse in cold water.
In a big heavy-bottomed pot (mine’s more “well-loved” than pretty), warm a glug of olive oil if not using a fatty ham bone. Toss in onion, carrots, celery; cook over medium heat, give everything a good stir, and wait till the onions look a bit translucent. Toss in garlic for a minute or two.
Split peas go in next, followed by ham bone (if using), and all your water or broth. Bay leaf, thyme, too. (I give it a slightly dramatic swirl with a wooden spoon, pretending to be a pro). Raise heat to get things bubbling.
Once it’s merrily boiling (likely while you’re hunting for that one missing lid), knock the heat down to a gentle simmer. Cover halfway and just let it go. Stir now and then—peas have a knack for sticking to the bottom.
After about an hour, check the peas. They’ll mush up when you stir (this is where I usually sneak a taste, though it’s hot, so careful). If it looks thick enough, great; if not, leave a bit longer or add a splash more water.
If you used a ham bone, fish it out (good luck not making a mess), shred off bits of meat, toss the meat back in, and bin the bone. Fish out that sneaky bay leaf too.
Adjust salt and pepper. Sometimes I add a tiny bit of cider vinegar or lemon at the end (on second thought, not always necessary—the soup has plenty of punch on its own).
Ladle into bowls (or mugs—nobody judges here). Serve hot and preferably with something to dunk (bread crusts, crackers, whatever lives in your cupboard).

Notes That Only a Bit of Trial & Error Can Teach

If the soup ever goes gluey, just thin it with extra stock or even just water. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty.
Skim any foamy stuff early on; it’s not dangerous, just looks odd. I sometimes forget and nothing drastic happens.
Honestly, the soup tastes better the day after—I’m not sure why, but it just does.

Some Variations—Successes (and Not-So-Much)

Add a handful of diced potatoes for extra body. I’ve even used sweet potatoes for a slightly sweet twist, but that one divided the family.
Go all veggie: skip the ham, use smoked paprika or a bit of liquid smoke. Actually, a friend also crumbled in crispy tempeh—do with that what you will!
Once, I tried tossing in curry powder. Um, wouldn’t do that again. Let’s say it was “interesting.”

Equipment (Don’t Sweat It If You’re Missing Something)

Big soup pot (Dutch oven is fancy, but any big pot will do. I once used a deep skillet with a wok lid—worked fine!)
A decent chopping knife. Though, honestly, any sharp-ish knife plus persistence gets you there.
Ladle (but if you forget or it gets lost in the drawer chaos, a big mug works. Or, you know, just pour.)

Storing This Soup (If It Ever Lasts That Long)

Store in the fridge, tightly covered. Lasts up to 4 days… though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! It thickens as it sits; just stir in a splash of water or broth to wake it up before reheating. Freezes decently too—but I always mean to freeze some and then we just… don’t have leftovers.

How to Serve (Soup Night Is Kinda Special)

I like this soup with chunky bread, sourdough if I’m feeling posh, or a hunk of cheddar alongside. My mum used to top it with a swirl of plain yogurt—totally optional, but I admit, it’s good. Sometimes (when feeling rebellious) I even sprinkle hot sauce. Or more fresh thyme if I haven’t managed to kill my potted herbs that week.

Lessons Learned (From Oops Moments)

Don’t rush simmering—once I tried to blast the heat, peas turned to glue. Give it time; your kitchen will smell like a tiny countryside café anyway.
Fish out the bay leaf before blending or mashing! Trust me.
Don’t salt too early—if your ham is salty, soup can get a bit too punchy. Season gently, taste as you go.

Pea Soup FAQ—Things Folks Have Actually Asked Me

Can I use canned peas? Not really—the dried split peas are what break down and go all creamy; canned peas stay weirdly whole and watery. Actually, I tried once… lesson learned the (kind of) gross way!
Does this have to simmer for ages? Well, yes and no. Shorter simmer makes it thinner, but the big flavor only shows up after a good lazy hour. Patience, my friend.
Can I make this in a slow cooker? Absolutely—just dump and go. Low for 6-8 hours. Here’s a UK home cook who swears by it: Split Pea Soup on BBC Good Food.
My soup turned out super thick—what did I do wrong? Probably nothing! Just add water or broth as needed. Some folks like it so thick you could stand a spoon up in it (I’ve eaten it both ways—life’s too short to fuss).
Where do you get bay leaves? Ok, odd question maybe, but I get these from the local corner shop or just snitch a few from a neighbor’s shrub—don’t tell Linda at 42.

If you’re a recipe card person, Simply Recipes has a printable version here, although honestly it’s more fun just to wing it sometimes.

Last digression—I once tried putting croutons on top, and my cousin said it looked like “soup with floating toast bugs” so… maybe stick with bread on the side. Or go wild; food is meant to be fun, after all.