I’ve only been dying to share this recipe with you for more than one million minutes.
Honestly—I’ve been waiting forever to share this recipe. I’m not exaggerating. This soup means more to me than just a great bowl of food. It represents why I started this blog: to share memories of my sweet, quirky grandmother, who was a little like Betty White — legally blind and deaf, with fluffy hair and a housecoat always nearby.
Mother Lovett made the ultimate bean soup. It was my mom’s favorite comfort food (second only to cake for breakfast). It took me a while to appreciate it, but when I did, I fell head over heels. Sharing her soup was top of my list when I launched this blog, but for a long time I couldn’t bring myself to buy a bone-in ham. I was intimidated by the idea of talking to a butcher — I’m the kind of person who even avoids calling for pizza. If you’re not a ham person, don’t worry: this soup will likely win you over.
After two winters, my mom finally took me to the store and handled the ham purchase for me. She recited the recipe from memory since it wasn’t written down anywhere. Mother Lovett never soaked her beans and simmered this soup all day long—yes, it’s an eight-hour affair. I wanted to be authentic, so I followed her approach exactly. The house smelled irresistible; an electrician who came by halfway through nearly left in a trance.
I didn’t, however, put hot pink rollers in my hair after washing it in the sink—though that might be fun another night.
The soup turned out exactly as I remembered: comforting, rich, and delicious, even for someone who usually dislikes ham. Family members agreed it tasted like Mother Lovett’s. The next day, over a late dinner and a few bottles of wine, my aunt and mom argued whether Mother Lovett soaked the beans the day before making soup. My mom insisted she didn’t; my aunt swore she did. The debate continued loudly for weeks—clearly this recipe stirs up strong memories and opinions.
Arguments aside, the soup is pure comfort: like a warm hug from Mother Lovett. It’s hearty, simple, and nostalgic—exactly what I wanted to recreate.
Mother Lovett’s Bean Soup
Makes a giant pot—at least 12 servings
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large sweet onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
64 ounces low-sodium chicken stock
32 ounces water
1 pound dry navy beans, rinsed
3–3 1/2 pound bone-in ham
2 pounds potatoes (Yukon Gold or Idaho), peeled and cubed
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Start by rinsing the dry beans in a bowl, then give them a final rinse in a colander. Set aside.
Heat a very large stockpot over medium-low and add the olive oil. Sauté the chopped onion for 4–5 minutes until soft, then add the garlic and cook for about 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the ham and the beans, then pour in the chicken stock and water. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook for 4 hours.
After 4 hours, add the potatoes, re-cover, and simmer for another 2–3 hours, stirring occasionally. Near the end, the potatoes will start to break down and thicken the broth, and the ham will fall off the bone. Remove the bone before serving and shred the ham with forks. Taste for seasoning—between the ham and chicken stock, you may not need extra salt. Add more pepper if desired. Serve hot. This soup freezes well in large containers for up to 6 months.
Note: I haven’t tested this in a slow cooker, but it should work if the beans are rinsed and you cook the whole mixture (including potatoes) on low for 8–12 hours. You can also use canned beans (rinsed and drained) and cut the ham into pieces to reduce cooking time—about 1–2 hours should be sufficient depending on how tender you like the ham.
The end.