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Slow Cooker Tuscan White Bean Soup — What Bitter Weather and Ham Bones Are Made For

The week after Thanksgiving, and the leftover cycle begins again. Turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey everything until the turkey is gone, which happens faster when Marcus is home because Marcus and leftover turkey have a relationship that can only be described as efficient. He clears leftovers the way a professional organizer clears clutter — systematically, without hesitation, until the refrigerator is bare and the containers are stacked in the sink.

December is coming, and with it the familiar rhythm of Advent and Christmas prep and the specific joy of a kitchen that smells like cinnamon in winter. I started my Christmas baking list this week, which is the same list every year because the Christmas baking list does not change for the same reason the Thanksgiving menu does not change: because perfection does not need revision, and because the people who eat these things expect them, and expectation is its own form of love.

Marcus is in the final stretch of his first semester as a senior. Applications are in. Tuskegee is confirmed. The backup schools are backups and will remain backups because Marcus has made his choice and the choice was Tuskegee before his choice could speak. He comes home from school buzzing with the particular energy of a boy who can see the finish line, who knows that this is the last Christmas as a high school student, the last winter break in this bedroom, the last December as a boy who lives with his mother. He does not say these things. I see them in his eyes, in the way he lingers at the dinner table, in the way he asks for seconds when he is already full, as if he is eating against a deadline.

CJ called midweek. He sounded different — lighter, happier. There is someone, he said. Not a girlfriend yet. Just someone. A woman at church in Huntsville, the AME church he has been attending since he moved. Her name is Shanice. She teaches school. She laughed at his joke, he said, which was apparently the miracle that convinced him she was worth calling his mother about. I said bring her home when you are ready. He said he is not ready yet. I said I know. The readiness will come. Like yeast in warm water. You cannot rush it. You can only create the conditions.

Made a big pot of white bean soup with ham and kale because the weather turned bitter on Thursday and bitter weather calls for substantial soup. The beans simmered for hours with the ham bone from Thanksgiving, and the broth was deep and rich and tasted like everything good about using every part of the meal, wasting nothing, honoring the whole animal the way Mama honored it. I served it with cornbread and hot sauce, and the kitchen was warm, and the family was fed, and December was one day closer.

That Thursday when the temperature dropped without warning, I wasn’t looking for anything complicated — I was looking for something that would fill the kitchen with warmth and do most of the work itself while I sat with my Christmas baking list. The ham bone from Thanksgiving had been waiting in the freezer like it knew its moment was coming, and this Slow Cooker Tuscan White Bean Soup is exactly the recipe I had in mind: beans, greens, a rich broth built low and slow, and the kind of depth you only get when you honor the whole meal and waste nothing. It is the soup Mama would have recognized.

Slow Cooker Tuscan White Bean Soup with Ham and Kale

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 7–8 hours (low) | Total Time: 8 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 6–8

Ingredients

  • 1 lb dried Great Northern or cannellini beans, soaked overnight and drained
  • 1 meaty ham bone (from a holiday ham) or 1 1/2 cups diced cooked ham
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
  • 3 stalks celery, chopped
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
  • 2 cups water
  • 1 tsp dried thyme
  • 1 tsp dried rosemary, crumbled
  • 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 4 cups chopped kale, tough stems removed
  • Salt to taste
  • Hot sauce, for serving
  • Cornbread, for serving

Instructions

  1. Load the slow cooker. Add the soaked and drained beans to the slow cooker. Nestle in the ham bone (or stir in the diced ham). Add the onion, garlic, carrots, celery, and diced tomatoes with their juices.
  2. Add liquid and seasoning. Pour in the chicken broth and water. Stir in the thyme, rosemary, smoked paprika, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Give everything a gentle stir to combine.
  3. Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 7–8 hours, or until the beans are completely tender and the broth has deepened in color and flavor. The kitchen will smell like everything good.
  4. Remove the ham bone. Carefully lift out the ham bone. Pull any remaining meat from the bone, shred or chop it, and return the meat to the pot. Discard the bone.
  5. Add the kale. Stir in the chopped kale. Replace the lid and cook on HIGH for an additional 20–30 minutes, until the kale is wilted and tender.
  6. Taste and adjust. Taste the broth and add salt as needed — the ham will have contributed salt throughout cooking, so season at the end. For a thicker soup, use the back of a spoon to mash some of the beans against the side of the pot and stir to incorporate.
  7. Serve. Ladle into deep bowls. Serve with hot sauce on the side and a thick slab of warm cornbread. This soup is better the next day, if it lasts that long.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 11g | Sodium: 680mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 64 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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