Chorizo and Chickpea Soup

December 2019. The semester is ending and I am finishing junior year with the grades I expected. Three A grades, one A-minus. My research practicum has produced a second paper draft that Dr. Ochoa says is nearly ready to submit. I have been in Birmingham for almost a year now and the city is mine in all the ways that matter: the good coffee shop, the YMCA pool, the library desk worker, the neighbors.

Edna, my elderly neighbor, has been making a project of our friendship. She brings me things from her apartment sometimes, small things: a magazine she liked, a jar of her daughter jam from California, once a card with a recipe for something she called Scandinavian ginger cookies that she said her mother made. I made the cookies. They were excellent. I left a tin of them outside her door.

Sunday dinner this week I made lamb chops, which I have never made before, seared in the cast iron with rosemary and garlic and served with roasted potatoes and green beans. The chops were pink in the center and caramelized on the outside and James took one bite and pointed at his plate as if to say: you see this. I see it. I ate every bite of mine and thought about the fourteen-year-old who arrived in Gloria kitchen not knowing what a cast iron skillet was for and did not know that this was possible.

The fellowship decision comes in February or March. I am doing my best to not count the days. I am not succeeding entirely but I am trying.

That lamb chop dinner lives in my memory as a kind of marker — a before and after — and it taught me that the best cold-weather cooking is less about technique than about willingness: willingness to use the heavy pan, to let things caramelize, to trust the heat. This Chorizo and Chickpea Soup has become a fixture of my winter rotation for exactly the same reason: it asks you to commit, to build flavor low and slow, and it rewards you with something that tastes like it took far more skill than it did. I make it when December closes in and I need something that fills a room with the smell of something good happening.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
3/4 lb fresh chorizo sausage, casings removed and crumbled
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 can (14.5 oz) fire-roasted diced tomatoes, undrained
2 cans (15 oz each) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 bay leaf
2 cups baby spinach or chopped kale
Salt and black pepper to taste
Crusty bread, for serving

Instructions

Brown the chorizo. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add crumbled chorizo and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to transfer chorizo to a plate, leaving the drippings in the pot.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add diced onion to the pot and cook in the chorizo drippings until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, smoked paprika, cumin, and red pepper flakes; cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute until fragrant.
Add tomatoes and chickpeas. Stir in the fire-roasted tomatoes with their juices and both cans of drained chickpeas. Cook for 2 minutes, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
Simmer the soup. Return the browned chorizo to the pot. Pour in the chicken broth and add the bay leaf. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered for 20 minutes to allow the flavors to meld.
Finish with greens. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Stir in the spinach or kale and cook until just wilted, about 2 minutes. Taste and season with salt and black pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and serve hot with crusty bread for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chorizo and Chickpea Soup — The Winter I Learned What I Was Capable Of