• theloathiest

Split Pea Soup

Filled with good wholesome pea-ness

<Uplifting quotes>

<Snarky text>


<cooking directions>

<further snarkiness>

I’ve boiled down my recipes to the perfect formula. I’m going to use that from here on out. Let’s get right to it.

<begin inspirational quotes>

“If you have the pea soup, make sure you eat it before it eats you.”

- a warning to Harry Potter

“Your dream rainbows and hope unicorns can only be found either in your pixie love heart or my split pea soup.”

- No one has ever said that

<end inspirational quotes>

<begin snarkiness>

If you can find a better quotes about pea soup, I urge you to get another hobby.

First of all, I know what you’re thinking. It’s split pea soup. You don’t eat split pea soup. It’s got the reputation of liver paste and the flavor of a movie theater seat. Heck, I don’t know exactly why I started making it. I think I lost a bet.

And yet, this soup is damned well delicious. If Jennifer Lawrence stopped by and demanded pea soup, this is what I’d make.

<end snarkiness>

<begin ingredients>

· 2 ½ tablespoons of butter

· 1 chopped medium onion

· 1 large tablespoon of minced garlic (Gilroy I love you)

· 16 oz bag of dried split peas

· 3 cans of chicken broth

· 2 teaspoons of curry powder

· 1 ham hock

· Salt and pepper to taste

· Wait for the end - 2 tablespoons of lemon juice

<end ingredients>

<begin cooking directions>

Get ouy your crock. Rinse your peas. It’s a messy step. They slip through the slots in my colander. I’ve tried lining it with a paper towel to rinse them. They scrape off nicely into the crock. It kinda works. Heck, we’re men…maybe…you may trudge forth without rinsing your peas at your peril.

I demand you put your peas in the crock.

Add all other ingredients except lemon juice. It’s hard to judge the flavor before the soup is pureed at the end. So, save that ingredient for last. Or not. I don’t think anyone is pulling your pea card if you don’t. At least, I hope not.

Dial the crock to low and cook all day, at least 8 hours. It can go for ten or so without any difference. That way, you just put it on before you leave in the morning. It’s done when you get home. You could probably get away with 6 hours on crock high or two hours at a simmer in a pot of your choosing on the stove. I once watched a show where truckers made their meals wrapped in tin foil, placed in the engine compartment. In this case, a drive from El Paso to Pascagoula should do the trick.

At the end, take out the ham hock. Shred the little bit of meat off the bone and set that aside. Take out your stick blender. In my world, you own one. Purree. Add back the meat from the hock. Taste, taste, taste, season with salt and pepper and lemon juice. Stir. Serve with some dinner rolls, maybe some croutons and a salad or hamburger.

<begin further snarkiness>

There are other ways to do it. You can add chopped carrots and celery at the beginning. You can substitute the lemon juice with balsamic vinegar or sour cream. You can avoid the puree. It doesn’t matter. Do what you think you have to do to impress Jennifer Lawrence. They are your peas. Nestle them appropriately.

<end further snarkiness>

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