More Winter Soups
Roasted Red Pepper and Chorizo Soup
This roasted red pepper and chorizo soup is one of my all-time favourite cold weather dinners. The sweetness of the roasted peppers mixed with the smoky heat of chorizo makes every spoonful rich, bold, and comforting. I blend it smooth, stir through crispy chorizo, and serve it with crusty bread for dunking. It’s a brilliant make-ahead soup, freezes beautifully, and brings a bit of Mediterranean warmth to even the chilliest Adelaide evenings.
Ingredients
- 1 chorizo sausage, finely diced
- 1 onion, finely diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 150g roasted red peppers
- 400g tinned plum tomatoes
- 1 tbsp smoked paprika
- 1/2 tsp ground cumin
- 2 cups chicken stock
- Maldon sea salt flakes
- Sour cream to serve
Instructions
- In a large pot over medium-high heat, fry the diced chorizo for 3-4 minutes, or until just turning golden and the chorizo has released its oils. Remove the chorizo from the pot and set it aside.
- In the same pot, cook the onion in the chorizo oil for about 10 minutes, or until soft. Add the garlic and cook an additional minute until fragrant.
- Next, stir through the smoked paprika and cumin, and cook another minute.
- Add the red peppers, tomatoes and chicken stock and stir through. Use a wooden spoon to break down the tomato. Season with a lard pinch of Maldon sea salt flakes.
- Increase heat to medium-high and bring to a gentle simmer. Once simmering, remove from heat and use an immersion or stick blender to blitz the soup until smooth.
- Finally, add the chorizo to the soup and stir before serving with a dollop of sour cream.
Nutrition Information:
Yield:
4Serving Size:
1Amount Per Serving: Calories: 139Total Fat: 6gSaturated Fat: 2gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 4gCholesterol: 12mgSodium: 414mgCarbohydrates: 15gFiber: 3gSugar: 8gProtein: 7g
Please note, this nutrition information is to be used as a guide only. Nutrition information isn’t always accurate.
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Red Pepper and Chorizo Soup
A Hug in a Bowl
You know those weeks that just drain you? The ones where every email feels like a battle, every conversation leaves a mark, and even the cat gives you side-eye like you’ve forgotten how to be a decent human? Yeah, it’s been one of those. By Thursday, I’d had enough. I didn’t want to cook anything fancy, but I wanted something proper tasty. Something that felt like love in a bowl. So I made my roasted red pepper and chorizo soup.
I first got into the rhythm of regular soup-making when I lived in Scotland. Over there, soup is more than a meal- it’s practically a national pastime. The second winter set in, everyone would dust off their soup pots. Ask what someone got up to on the weekend and chances are, they made soup. And fair enough too!! There’s something comforting about a kitchen filled with the smell of garlic and spice, a bubbling pot on the stove, and knowing dinner is going to hit the spot. This one – with smoky chorizo, sweet roasted peppers, and a bit of heat – is one I always come back to. It’s simple, it’s bold, and it tastes like you’ve made more effort than you have. My kind of cooking.
I’m not fussed about whether the peppers are fresh or from a jar. I always say – flavour first. And this one delivers. The chorizo does most of the heavy lifting, with smoky paprika and cumin giving it a real depth. Add in some chicken stock, a tin of plum tomatoes, and a swirl of sour cream, and you’ve got something that feels like a treat, even on the worst kind of Thursday.
When Life Gets a Bit Much
This past week, I’ve been running on empty. It started with some truly painful work nonsense, ended with divorce papers, and somewhere in the middle I lost track of how many cups of tea I drank trying to stay calm. By Thursday night, I was over it. So I turned to the one thing I could rely on – a big pot of this soup and a generous glass of Shiraz.
I didn’t want conversation. I didn’t want plans. I just wanted to sit on the couch, fluffy socks on, with something warm and spicy in my hands. And that first spoonful? Heaven. It grounded me, reminded me I’m allowed to pause. To stop trying to fix everything. Sometimes it’s enough to just get through the day and feed yourself something that tastes good.
It’s funny how something as ordinary as soup can make everything feel a little more manageable. Like, no, it hasn’t solved the mess of the week, but it softened the edges. And for a moment, that’s all I needed. Just one warm, comforting moment to remind myself I’m still here. Still me. And still capable of looking after myself.
Family, Worry, and the Quiet Moments
With the long weekend coming up, I made this soup on Thursday instead of my usual Friday night wind-down. It was a bit of pre-Easter grounding before heading off to see the family. Rose and I are spending a few days with them before I head to Adelaide for work, which it’s the first time I’ve been, so I’m a bit nervous!
However, Rose loves family trips. The second she’s out of her carrier, she’s off like a shot – tail high, eyes wide, exploring every inch of the house. Her favourite spot is the landing, where she can perch like a tiny silver gargoyle and watch the world below. It’s hilarious., and comforting, because she’s so full of life and joy, even when I’m quietly carrying worry.
Dad’s been sick. He got a tough diagnosis just before Christmas, and while he’s still sharp as ever and probably more positive than I am, it weighs on me. He’s the most resilient person I know. He taught me strength, grace, and how to meet life’s curveballs with a quiet kind of courage. But he’s getting older, and I hate that his body is starting to betray him. Even with his usual humour and stubborn optimism, it sits heavy in my chest. This soup, this moment, this visit – they’re all ways to stay close, to hold onto something steady. And thank heavens, through it all, he hasn’t lost his wit.
Ingredients Breakdown
This soup is all about pantry staples done well. You’ll need one chorizo sausage, finely diced – it’s the backbone of the whole thing. From there, add a finely chopped onion and a few cloves of garlic to build that base flavour. The red peppers? Go roasted, either fresh or jarred. I use about 150g, but again, this isn’t about being exact – it’s about what you’ve got.
Tinned plum tomatoes bring body and sweetness, while smoked paprika and cumin layer in warmth and that hint of spice. A couple of cups of chicken stock round everything out and turn it from a thick sauce into something you can ladle into bowls and slurp from a spoon. And finally, Maldon sea salt flakes bring the perfect finishing touch. Just before serving, I add a dollop of sour cream – it softens the spice and makes the whole thing feel a bit indulgent.
That’s it. Nothing fancy. Just proper food made with heart. It’s the kind of recipe you’ll make once and find yourself craving every time life gets a bit much. And let’s be honest – we all need a few of those in our back pocket.
