Hearty Chipotle Chicken Soup

I started writing the recipes down. Not in a fancy book — in a composition notebook, the black-and-white kind, the kind I used in college at the University of Puerto Rico. Dense handwriting, half English and half Spanish, because some words exist only in Spanish and translating them would be a crime against the recipe. Culantro does not become cilantro in my notebook. Aji dulce does not become sweet pepper. Sofrito does not become vegetable base. The words stay Puerto Rican because the food is Puerto Rican and the language is part of the flavor.

I wrote down the two-day bacalao soak. I wrote down the counterclockwise arroz con dulce stirring. I wrote down the tight pasteles wrapping. I wrote notes in the margins: Mami always added more vinegar than this but Mami was wrong. And: Abuela version used more achiote — I think she is right but do not tell Mami I said that. These margins notes are conversations with ghosts and living women, arguments across generations, the ongoing family debate about proportions that has been happening since before I was born and will continue after I am gone.

The notebook feels important. The notebook feels like a responsibility. I am the keeper now. The keeper of the recipes, the carrier of the tradition, and the responsibility weighs as much as a pot of pernil and I will carry it the same way — with both hands, with my whole body, without setting it down.

At the hospital, spring allergy season is filling the ER. More patients, more trays. I added a ginger-turmeric soup to the spring menu — anti-inflammatory, soothing, the kind of food that tells an allergy-swollen body: I see you. I am helping. Eat this. The soup has been popular. A nurse on the third floor told me it is the most requested item on the menu. I said, Of course it is. The soup was made with love. She said, Carmen, every soup is made with love. I said, Not every soup. My soup. My soup is made with love. Other soups are made with ingredients. There is a difference.

Eduardo read the notebook this weekend. He sat at the island counter and turned the pages slowly and read my handwriting and my margin notes and when he got to the end he closed it and looked at me and said, Carmen, this is the most important thing you have ever written. More important than your nutrition thesis. More important than anything. I said, I know, Eduardo. He said, Write more. I said, I will. I am. Every day. Until the notebook is full and then I will start another one. The recipes are infinite. The pages are finite. I will need more notebooks. I will need more ink. I will need more of everything except love, which is already infinite and always has been.

The ginger-turmeric soup I added to the hospital menu this spring was the one that made the third-floor nurse stop me in the hallway — and it reminded me that a soup is never just a soup. When I came home that evening and opened my composition notebook, I wanted to cook something that carried the same intention: bold, warming, made with purpose. This hearty chipotle chicken soup is exactly that kind of recipe — the kind you write in the margins, the kind you argue about across generations, the kind that tells whoever eats it: I see you. I am helping. Eat this.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, minced
1 tablespoon adobo sauce (from the can)
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1 can (14.5 oz) diced fire-roasted tomatoes
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup frozen or fresh corn kernels
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Juice of 1 lime
Fresh cilantro, for garnish
Sour cream or plain Greek yogurt, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sear the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Season chicken thighs with salt and pepper, then add to the pot. Sear 3–4 minutes per side until golden. Remove and set aside; the chicken will finish cooking in the broth.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add diced onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, chipotle peppers, and adobo sauce; stir and cook 1 minute until fragrant.
Add the spices. Stir in cumin, smoked paprika, and oregano. Cook 30 seconds, letting the spices bloom in the oil.
Simmer. Pour in the fire-roasted tomatoes and chicken broth. Return the seared chicken thighs to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered for 20 minutes.
Shred the chicken. Remove chicken thighs with tongs or a slotted spoon. Use two forks to shred the meat, then return it to the pot.
Finish the soup. Stir in black beans and corn. Simmer an additional 5 minutes until heated through. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and lime juice.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh cilantro and a dollop of sour cream or Greek yogurt if desired. Serve with warm crusty bread or tortillas.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hearty Chipotle Chicken Soup — The Soup Made with Love