Tomato Turkey Soup

August 2020. I am 61 years old, retired from the Postal Service, my days now belong to me and the smoker and Rosetta and the slow unfolding of a life without a mailbag. The week arrived the way weeks arrive in Orange Mound — carried by the rhythm of morning coffee and evening porch-sitting and the steady, patient work of being present in a life that doesn\'t require grand gestures to feel meaningful. Christmas-new year pause.

Naomi is growing the way all Johnson children grow — fast, loudly, and with opinions that exceed her vocabulary. She is 6 months old and every week brings a new word, a new gesture, a new expression that reminds me of Marcus at that age or Angela's calm or, in certain moments — a tilt of the head, a stubborn set of the jaw — Denise, always Denise, present in the DNA, present in the grandchild who carries the family forward.

The smoked ham: bone-in, glazed with brown sugar and Dijon and a splash of apple cider vinegar, smoked over cherry wood for three hours until the glaze caramelized into a dark, sticky lacquer. Cherry wood gives ham a sweetness that hickory doesn't — a gentleness that suits the holiday, whatever holiday it is, because ham is the universal celebration meat, the protein that says "today is different from yesterday" without saying why.

The evening found me where evenings always find me: on the porch, in the chair, with Rosetta nearby and the smoker nearby and the neighborhood breathing its evening breath. Orange Mound at dusk is a sound — crickets and distant music and the low hum of a community that has survived everything the world has thrown at it and is still, stubbornly, beautifully, here. I am here too. Still here. Still showing up. Still tending the fire that Uncle Clyde lit and that I have kept burning for forty-five years and that will burn after I\'m gone, because fire doesn\'t need a pitmaster to survive — it just needs someone who cares enough to add wood.

That ham didn’t last the week — it never does, and that’s the whole point. What lasted was the bone, the broth, the quiet that settles over the house when the celebration is done and all you want is something warm and honest on the stove. I’ve been making this tomato turkey soup for years when the leftover holiday meat is down to its last good stretch — swap in whatever you’ve got, turkey or ham or both, and let it go low and slow the way everything worth doing deserves. Naomi was asleep, Rosetta had her coffee, and the porch was waiting; this soup was the whole afternoon.

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

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 stalks celery, sliced
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
4 cups low-sodium chicken or turkey broth
2 cups cooked turkey (or leftover holiday ham), shredded or diced
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup small pasta (ditalini or elbow), optional
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Saute the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the carrots and spices. Stir in the carrots, thyme, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper. Cook for 2 minutes, letting the spices bloom in the oil.
Build the base. Pour in the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes with their juices, and the broth. Add the bay leaf and stir everything together. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer low and slow. Reduce heat to low, cover partially, and let the soup simmer for 25 minutes until the carrots are fully tender and the flavors have had time to find each other.
Add the turkey and pasta. Stir in the shredded turkey (or holiday ham) and the pasta, if using. Return to a gentle simmer and cook uncovered for an additional 10 minutes, until the pasta is cooked through and the meat is warmed all the way.
Taste and finish. Remove the bay leaf. Taste for salt and adjust as needed. Ladle into bowls and top with a scatter of fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tomato Turkey Soup — What You Make When the Ham Bone's Gone and the Quiet Settles In