Ham and Lentil Soup

Late January and the light is returning, a few minutes more each day, still invisible and still trustworthy. I note it every year at this point because it is the news I most want in January: the days are getting longer. Everything else — the cold, the gray, the early dark — is still present. But the direction has changed. This matters.

I have been writing a post about split pea soup — my winter standard, my mother's recipe, the ham hock and the long cooking. The post keeps growing past where it should stop because I keep wanting to say more about the salt pork versus ham hock question than the recipe actually requires. Helen says stop when you have said what the soup needs. I said the soup needs context. She said the soup needs cooking. She is right. The post is now three paragraphs and the recipe.

Helen has been going through her seed catalogs again, the annual January project. She circles what she wants in pencil and crosses out what underperformed last year. The catalog is evidence of forty years of decisions: there are circled varieties in this year's catalog that have been circled for fifteen years in a row, which means they are proven, and there are new ones circled for the first time, which means she is still curious, which means she has not settled. At sixty-six years old, Helen still picks something new every spring. I find this remarkable. I find her remarkable. I find her remarkable every day, which after forty years of marriage is either a miracle or a habit so deep it has become the same thing as a miracle.

Eight weeks until maple season. The sap is in the trees. I am patient. I am always patient about this. Vermont winter is long and the maple season is brief and worth waiting for. This is the whole teaching.

Helen said the soup needs cooking, not context — so here is the cooking. This ham and lentil soup is not my mother’s split pea exactly, but it belongs to the same family: long-simmered, ham-forward, the kind of thing that makes the house smell like something is being tended. January is long and the light is still thin and a pot of this on the stove is its own kind of evidence that the direction has changed.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
3 stalks celery, sliced
1 1/2 cups green or brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
2 cups diced cooked ham (or 1 small ham hock)
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 bay leaf
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for serving)

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Build the base. Stir in the smoked paprika and thyme, coating the vegetables. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine.
Add lentils, ham, and broth. Add the rinsed lentils and diced ham to the pot. Pour in the chicken broth and add the bay leaf. Stir well and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer low and slow. Reduce heat to low, cover partially, and simmer for 35–40 minutes, until the lentils are fully tender and beginning to break down into the broth. If using a ham hock, remove it, shred the meat, and return the meat to the pot; discard the bone and skin.
Season and finish. Remove the bay leaf. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed — ham varies in saltiness, so season at the end. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ham and Lentil Soup — The Soup That Needs Cooking, Not Context