Christmas week. Our second as a family, first in California, and everything is different and everything is the same.
Different: the weather. Christmas in California is 65 degrees and sunny. There's no snow. There's no cold. Ryan grilled on Christmas Eve because you CAN grill in December in California, and it felt like a betrayal of everything Virginia taught me about winter.
Same: the baking. Mom's Christmas baking list, executed by me, in my kitchen, with her recipe cards. Sugar cookies (rolled, cut, iced — the sprinkle crime scene is REAL). Chocolate fudge (Grandma Carol's recipe). Peppermint bark. Russian tea cakes.
I didn't make the divinity. Mom says divinity requires dry air. California IS dry air. But I'm not ready for divinity. Divinity is advanced. Divinity is Donna-level. I'll get there.
Soo-Jin brought me yaksik — Korean sweet rice with dates and nuts — for Christmas. It's a celebration food. I brought her sugar cookies. The exchange continues.
Christmas morning: Caleb didn't understand presents but he understood wrapping paper. He spent forty minutes ripping paper and ignoring the gifts inside, which is the most honest response to consumerism I've ever seen. Ryan gave me a new journal (the third; I'm filling them fast) and a set of good kitchen knives (not the cheap ones from Target — GOOD ones, the kind Mom uses). Caleb gave me a card 'from Caleb' that Ryan wrote, which said: 'Thank you for feeding me. The sweet potatoes are my favorite. Love, Caleb.'
I gave Ryan a framed photo of us from the Fourth of July — the bar in Virginia Beach, the night we met. Two years ago. Two years since 'ma'am.' Two years since everything.
Mom called at noon. 'Merry Christmas, Rachel.' She was crying. She always cries on Christmas when we're not there. 'Merry Christmas, Caleb.' She cried harder.
Dad got on. 'Merry Christmas, kiddo. How are the tomato plants?'
DAD. IT'S CHRISTMAS.
'They're dormant, Dad. It's December.'
'Tomatoes don't go dormant in California. Check for new growth.'
I checked. There was new growth. Dad was right. From 3,000 miles away, on Christmas Day, my father was right about my tomatoes.
Christmas dinner: Mom's glazed ham (my version — slightly less glaze, slightly more mustard, because MY ham is MY ham). Scalloped potatoes. Green beans. The whole production.
Caleb ate ham. Tiny pieces, soft. He liked it. He banged his spoon on the high chair tray and said 'MO' which is his word for 'more' and also for everything else.
Merry Christmas from California. The ham was mine. The sprinkles are everywhere. The tomatoes have new growth.
And Mom is 3,000 miles away, crying on the phone, loving us from Norfolk.
Distance doesn't dim it. It can't.
When you make a whole glazed ham for three people — one of whom is a baby who considers “MO” a complete sentence — you are going to have leftovers, and you are going to have to figure out what to do with them. Mom always made ham soup the day after Christmas. It was the unspoken second act of the holiday meal, as expected as the paper wrapping still stuck to the baseboards. My version leans a little spicier, a little brighter, because that’s apparently what I do now: I take Mom’s blueprints and build something with my own handwriting on it. This Fiesta Ham Soup is what happened to our Christmas ham on December 26th — and honestly, Caleb banged his tray for “MO” on this one too.
Fiesta Ham Soup
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 cups cooked ham, diced
- 1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
- 1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
- 1 can (14.5 oz) chicken broth
- 1 medium onion, diced
- 1 green bell pepper, diced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Sour cream, shredded cheddar, and fresh cilantro for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and green bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5–6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Build the base. Stir in the cumin, chili powder, and smoked paprika, coating the vegetables in the spices. Cook for 30 seconds to bloom the spices.
- Add the ham and liquids. Add the diced ham, diced tomatoes with chiles (with liquid), chicken broth, black beans, and corn. Stir everything together.
- Simmer. Bring the soup to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the flavors have melded and the broth has deepened in color.
- Taste and adjust. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. If you want more heat, add a pinch more chili powder or a splash of hot sauce.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sour cream, shredded cheddar, and fresh cilantro if desired. Serve with warm crusty bread or cornbread on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 245 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 890mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 195 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
