
Chef Thomas
A Proper Chicken Broth
Sunday's roast chicken, simmered slowly on Monday with carrots, celery, leeks, and thyme into a bowl of clear, golden broth that smells like the kitchen is paying attention.
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Created by Chef Thomas
A thick, smoky bowlful of split peas and ham hock, simmered low for a couple of hours until the peas collapse and the kitchen fills with the kind of warmth that makes you pull a chair closer to the stove.
The fog comes in early in January. Not proper Victorian fog, not the pea-souper that gave this soup its other name, but something close enough. The kitchen window clouds over and the garden disappears. That's when I reach for the split peas.
This is a soup that costs almost nothing and gives back more than it has any right to. A smoked ham hock from the butcher, a bag of dried split peas, an onion, a carrot, a couple of sticks of celery. You put them in a pot with water and walk away. Two hours later, you have something that smells like the whole house has been cooking all day, thick and smoky and deeply, quietly good. The peas break down into a sort of savoury porridge. The ham falls off the bone into soft, salty shreds. The broth makes itself.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: "Pea and ham. Tuesday. Rain. Enough for three days." That's the truth of it. This is a soup that improves overnight, feeds a crowd for the price of a coffee, and asks almost nothing of you except time. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one barely needs talking through. Good ingredients. Low heat. Patience. There are few better feelings than putting a warm bowl of this in front of someone on a cold evening and watching their shoulders drop.
Quantity
1 (about 750g)
Quantity
500g
rinsed
Quantity
2 medium
roughly chopped
Quantity
2
roughly chopped
Quantity
2 sticks
roughly chopped
Quantity
2
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
1 litre, plus more as needed
Quantity
freshly ground, to taste
Quantity
to finish
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| smoked ham hock | 1 (about 750g) |
| dried green split peasrinsed | 500g |
| onionsroughly chopped | 2 medium |
| carrotsroughly chopped | 2 |
| celeryroughly chopped | 2 sticks |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| thyme | a few sprigs |
| cold water | 1 litre, plus more as needed |
| black pepper | freshly ground, to taste |
| extra virgin olive oil | to finish |
| crusty bread | to serve |
Put the ham hock in a large, heavy-bottomed pot and cover with cold water. Bring it to the boil, then pour off that first water. This draws out some of the excess salt and any scum. Rinse the hock briefly, wipe out the pot, and put the hock back in. It takes two minutes and makes a cleaner soup.
Add the split peas, onions, carrots, celery, bay leaves, and thyme to the pot with the hock. Pour in the cold water. It should cover everything by a good couple of inches. If it doesn't, add more. Bring to a gentle simmer. Not a rolling boil, a simmer. You want small, lazy bubbles breaking the surface. Put the lid on slightly ajar, so the steam can breathe, and leave it alone.
Let the pot simmer for two to two and a half hours. Check it every half hour or so, giving it a stir and topping up with a splash of water if the peas are drinking it all. They will. Split peas are thirsty. After an hour, the kitchen will start to smell of something deeply savoury and smoky, the kind of smell that makes you want to sit down and stay put. By two hours, the peas should have collapsed into a thick, greenish porridge and the meat should be falling off the bone.
Lift the hock out carefully and set it on a board. It will be tender enough that you can pull the meat apart with two forks. Shred it into rough pieces, discarding the bone, skin, and any large pieces of fat. The fat has already given its flavour to the soup. The meat goes back in.
Fish out the bay leaves and thyme stalks. Stir the shredded ham back into the pot. If the soup has gone thicker than you'd like (it will continue to thicken as it sits), loosen it with a little hot water until it feels right. A good pea and ham soup should be thick enough to hold a wooden spoon upright, or close to it, but still pourable. Season with black pepper. Taste it before you add salt. The hock has likely given you enough. Ladle into warm bowls, finish with a thread of good olive oil, and serve with bread you can tear.
1 serving (about 480g)
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