Grandma Carol's Split Pea Soup

Grandma Carol didn't have time to cook.

She was too busy running hospitals. Too busy teaching nursing students. Too busy doing the kind of work that keeps entire communities alive to spend much time in the kitchen — and honestly, her family will tell you, it showed. Just ask my mom, my Aunty Duckie, their siblings, or me.

But she made this soup.

Grandma Carol's Split Pea Soup was learned from her mother, Great-Grandma Florence — the same woman who sent Grandpa Vince out to forage the hills and turned whatever he brought back into something nourishing. Florence knew what she was doing in a kitchen. Carol inherited exactly one recipe from her, held onto it, and made it count.

Peas to attract and increase abundance — fitting for a woman who spent her career generating it for others. Carrots for fertility, passion, and drive — the drive that ran hospital floors and shaped generations of nurses. Potatoes for grounding, because even the most relentless people need a foundation. Celery for mental and psychic clarity. Thyme for courage, strength, and vitality — her default setting. Bay leaf to manifest wealth and abundance. Black pepper to ward off evil and negativity. Salt to hold it all together, the way she always did.

She may have only had one recipe. It was the right one.

Serves 4–6.