If I Could Bottle the Smell of This Soup…

Alright, so let me paint the picture for you. It’s dreary outside (classic), I’ve got a lone ham bone swinging around in the freezer—leftover from last Sunday’s roast, probably—and a bag of split peas just sitting in the pantry collecting a bit of dust. Split Pea and Ham Soup to the rescue! Not gonna lie, the first time I ever made this, I basically just threw everything in a pot and hoped for the best. Funny thing? Even my pickiest child (and she has Opinions with a capital O) licked the bowl. Swear on my wooden spoon. And because I can’t help myself, every time I make it now, I remember my uncle’s kitchen—always a kettle steaming, always a bunch of folks grabbing seconds.

Why You’ll Love This One (Or at Least I Do!)

I make this when a chill sneaks under the door or honestly just when I’ve got a ham bone knocking about (the dog steals jealous glances every single time, by the way). It’s so low fuss, even I can pull it off while wrangling laundry—though, sometimes I’ve forgotten to stir and regretted it. The best part? My family goes mad for this soup, especially if I dig out some crusty bread to swipe the bowl clean—it’s basically a hug in a bowl. And, just between us, if you simmer it long enough, the whole house smells good enough to convince people you’ve got your life together, even if you don’t.

Stuff You’ll Need (and a Few Swaps)

2 cups dried split peas, rinsed (Yellow or green, whatever’s in the cupboard. I’ve mixed them, didn’t notice the difference.)
1 leftover ham bone, or about 1–2 cups chopped cooked ham (No ham bone? Use smoked ham hocks or just chopped ham, works in a pinch)
1 large onion, diced (Red onion is OK too. My gran swore by Spanish onions but those are rare here.)
2 carrots, chopped into coins or chunks (Big chunks if you’re feeling rustic, thin for picky eaters)
2 celery sticks, sliced (I only use this if I remember to buy it. Otherwise, skip—tastes fine without.)
3 garlic cloves, minced (Out of fresh? A good scoop of garlic paste does the trick)
6 cups chicken stock or broth (I just use water plus bouillon if I’m honest)
2 bay leaves (Some folks leave them out, I forget half the time)
1-2 tsp dried thyme (Or a handful of fresh if you have it, which I almost never do)
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Extra: A splash of vinegar at the end (My weird little trick for brightness—optional)

How I Actually Make It (Give or Take)

Throw the split peas, ham bone (or chopped ham), diced onion, carrots, celery, and garlic into a big pot. No need to be fancy here. Just dump it all in.
Pour in the stock (broth), add bay leaves and sprinkle thyme over. Give everything a good stir. It may not look super pretty; honestly, it always looks a little green and suspicious before it cooks.
Bring to a boil. Once it’s properly bubbling along, turn it down to a low simmer. Pop a lid on, but let it breathe a bit—don’t cover tight or it will overboil (the mess I made once… oof).
Let it cook for about 1.5 to 2 hours, stirring every so often so it doesn’t stick. The peas should get all soft and start breaking down; the soup thickens up as it goes. This is when I usually sneak a taste.
Fish out the ham bone (careful, it’s hot!) and cut off any meat, plopping it back into the pot. Ditch the bone, toss shredded ham bits back in.
At this point, season with salt and pepper to taste. Don’t go wild, since the ham is already salty. Sometimes I add a splash of vinegar here—it kinda wakes the whole thing up, but totally optional.
Fish out the bay leaves. Or leave them in and play ‘bay leaf roulette’ like my cousin does—someone ALWAYS finds one.
Serve piping hot! It’ll thicken even more as it sits, which I kinda prefer.

Notes—The Stuff I Wish I’d Known

The peas don’t need soaking, but if you remember (which I don’t), an hour soaking softens them faster.
This soup sticks if you don’t stir—ask my ancient Dutch oven, now forever scarred.
If it gets too thick, just splash in a bit more water or broth—and if it’s too thin, simmer it longer (easy fix).

Weird Variations I’ve Tried (For Science!)

Vegan: Skip the ham, use smoked paprika and a splash of soy sauce for the ‘meaty’ feel. Not bad, just not the same.
Add a potato, diced, for extra creaminess. Turns a bit stew-like but fills you up.
Chili flakes for a kick, but—learned the hard way—not too many. This isn’t chili, after all.
Tried with bacon once instead of ham. It… did NOT work, got greasy real fast. Don’t recommend.

Equipment (But Don’t Sweat It)

Large soup pot or Dutch oven (Big and sturdy is good, but any pot will really do. I used a cheap one before I got fancy.)
Ladle—no ladle? Use a mug, I have. Don’t judge.

How to Store (But Will There Be Any Left?)

Fridge: Stays good for 3-4 days in a covered container, but honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day—it’s just that slurpable.

Freezer: Portion it into containers (or those random takeaway tubs you hoard) and freeze up to 2 months. Reheats fine, though it gets thicker—just add a splash of water if you need.

How We Serve This (And You Should Too)

Bowl it up steaming hot with a handful of chopped parsley or chives if you’re feeling fancy. Me? I like to float a few crunchy croutons or just crumbly bread hunks. My nephew eats it with a side of cheese toasties (totally his own invention, but really—try it!)

Things I Learned the Hard Way

I once tried rushing the simmering—nope, the peas stayed tough and the flavours just weren’t there. Give it time. Actually, the long simmer is when I tidy the kitchen (or play Wordle on my phone).
Don’t forget to fish out the bay leaves. Chomping into one, well, you’ll know right away.

What People (Actually) Ask Me

Can I make this in a slow cooker?
Sure! Toss everything in and cook on low for 7–8 hours, or high for about 4. Give it a stir part way through if you remember.
Does it really taste better the next day?
Honestly, yes. I don’t know why—it just does. Maybe magic, maybe science.
What happens if I use water instead of stock?
It’s totally fine! I do it myself when the cupboards are bare. Maybe just bump up the seasoning at the end.
Can I blend it super smooth?
Yep. Use a stick blender or regular one. I’ve done both, but I miss the chunky bits, personally.

Now, as a total tangent, does anyone else find that split peas take way longer to cook if you watch them? Like a watched pot situation, but with legumes? Just me? Anyway, happy cooking, and if you spill a little on the stove, call it seasoning.

Split Pea and Ham Soup: Cozy, Homey Comfort in Every Spoonful