Yellow split peas were a Newfoundland pantry staple for the same reason everything else was: they kept. Brought from home by the settlers and traded in by the merchants, the peas sat in barrels through the winter, waiting for the day they’d be soaked, simmered and turned into the thickest, most comforting soup on the island. Paired with salt pork and sometimes the bone from Sunday’s boiled dinner, it was the pot that simmered at the back of the stove on the coldest days of the year.
What makes it great is how luxurious a few dried peas and a piece of pork can become with patience. Simmered long, the soup turns creamy and golden, with a deep savoury flavour that warms you from the inside out. The true Newfoundland touch is the doughboys — soft dumplings dropped in to simmer on top — or a plate of toutons on the side for dunking. It’s soup as a full meal, the old way.
