Let Me Tell You Why I Love Making This Cozy Bean with Bacon Soup

You know those damp, drizzly evenings where it feels like you need a jumper and a hug? That’s exactly when I crave my Cozy Bean with Bacon Soup. I first made this after a truly chaotic soccer match where everyone came home soaked—including the dog, who was more mud than fur, honestly. Anyway, I threw this pot together mostly out of desperation, but it’s now a regular. There’s just something about the way the beans get so creamy and the bacon adds a little smoky hug. And I swear, if there’s ever empty bowls and quiet at the dinner table it’s because of this soup—not that my lot ever stay quiet for long! Oh, and if you happen to knock over the pepper while you’re cooking, welcome to my world.

Why You'll Love This Soup (Or: Why I Keep Making It)

I make this when the weather even thinks about turning cold. My family goes bananas for the crispy bacon bits on top—though, one time my youngest asked if you could just serve it as "bacon with a side of soup." (Honestly, respect.) If I’m honest, I sometimes throw it together to clear out a few cans from the pantry or use up sad celery in the back of the fridge. It’s forgiving—and if I can get dinner on the table without setting off the smoke alarm (again), we’re calling that a win. Plus, nobody can tell if you use canned beans after a good simmer (and yes, I totally cheat sometimes).

Here’s What You’ll Need (Options, Too!)

6 slices bacon, chopped (thick-cut is grand, but regular works; sometimes I even use pancetta if it’s in the fridge – whatever’s salty and porky)
1 large onion, diced (yellow or red—my gran swore by yellow, but I go with whatever’s not sprouting)
2–3 cloves garlic, minced (I have used the jar stuff in a pinch... no judgment!)
2 carrots, chopped (I’ll swap in a couple handfuls of baby carrots if that’s all I’ve got—don’t overthink it)
2 celery stalks, chopped (when I’m out, I just leave it out—it’s fine)
3 cans (15oz each) of white beans, drained & rinsed (Great Northern, cannellini, navy—truly, any white bean is lovely. Got dry beans? Gorgeous, just plan ahead!)
4 cups chicken broth (boxed, homemade, or whatever's on sale—veggie works in a pinch, too)
1 bay leaf (optional, but I usually chuck one in)
1 teaspoon dried thyme (or a few sprigs fresh if I feel fancy)
Salt & pepper, to taste
Chopped fresh parsley, for serving (not mandatory, but it does make things look posh)

Alright, Here’s How I Make It

First things first, toss your chopped bacon into a big pot (I use my trusty Dutch oven—love that thing). Crank the heat to medium, and let the bacon get good and crispy. I tend to snack on a few bits, so maybe make an extra slice?
Scoop the bacon out with a slotted spoon and set it aside—keep the bacon grease in the pot. That’s where the magic starts.
Add the onion, carrot, and celery now. Stir them around in all that lovely bacon fat. Cook until the veggies are soft, about 7–8 minutes (though I say let ‘em get a bit golden if you can wait).
Stir in the garlic, thyme, and bay leaf. Give it a minute—just until it smells dreamy and your neighbor texts to ask what you’re making (happens every time, I swear).
Dump in your beans, then pour in the broth. Stir it all together and scrape up any yummy brown bits from the bottom. Bring it to a gentle boil, then reduce to a simmer. Let it bubble quietly for about 20 minutes, lid slightly ajar (or off, if you’re prone to wandering off—you do you).
Fish out the bay leaf (if you remember—I almost never do on the first try).
Now, here’s where I get a bit creative: I like to mash some of the beans right in the pot, either with a potato masher or (carefully) with an immersion blender for a creamier vibe. Don’t fret if it looks rustic; that’s the point! Actually, I tried blitzing the whole thing with a blender once, but it just felt a bit off, texture-wise. So, lesson learned.
Taste and add salt and pepper as you like—this is the stage for sneaking a little sample spoonful. Stir in half your bacon (save the rest for topping)—and then just let it sit for a couple minutes before serving.
Ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with the reserved bacon and a bit of parsley if you’re feeling fancy. Or just dive right in.

What I’ve Learned (AKA: The Notes Bit)

Definitely rinse your canned beans. I used to skip this but, honestly, the soup tastes less murky and you don’t get that odd can taste (or, um, extra fiber surprises later).
If it’s too thick, just splash in more broth or a bit of water. I used to panic but, really, it’s fixable!
Forgot celery? It’s still delish. Actually, I find it works better if you don’t stress about what you’re missing—no soup police here.
I once tried making this soup with smoked turkey instead of bacon; didn’t blow anyone’s socks off but still edible (if you have lots of leftover turkey, go wild).

Some Variations I’ve Toyed With

Swapped the bacon for crumbled chorizo once—madly rich and a touch spicy, pretty ace on a cold night.
Added kale in the last 10 minutes; actually pretty good, though my kids were not impressed. Spinach wilts better and is less in-your-face.
Tried using pinto beans by accident; it ended up kind of a strange color but still got eaten, so… live and learn.

What You’ll Need—But Don’t Stress If You Don’t Have Everything

Big soup pot or Dutch oven (if you’ve only got a saucepan, just do it in batches—it’ll work, just maybe a bit messy!)
Wooden spoon or spatula
Potato masher or immersion blender—if neither, a fork for a bit of mashing is fine. I’ve improvised with a mug before… bit awkward but doable.

Storing Leftovers—But There Never Really Are Any

Pop your soup in an airtight container in the fridge. It’ll keep for about 3 days (though, honestly, in my house there’s barely a bowl left after the first night). If you somehow have leftover bacon bits, keep them separate so they stay crispy. Here’s a handy guide on freezing soup if you want, though I rarely get the chance.

How I Serve This—And Other Cosy Add-Ons

We love it with chewy sourdough or homemade cornbread. Sometimes I top mine with a swirl of homemade creme fraiche, which just feels posh but isn't too hard. Oh, and the occasional pickle on the side is a weird but welcome choice in our house. Sunday lunch tradition is bowls on laps in front of a movie—no judgment!

If I Had to Offer One or Two Pro Tips…

Don’t rush frying the bacon. I once cranked the heat way up to hurry it along and, well, ended up with burned bits and sad soup. Medium and steady is your friend.
If you mash all the beans, you’ll lose that lovely texture. I learned that the hard way—now I just mash about half for that perfect, rustic feel.

Questions I Actually Get About This Soup

Can I use dry beans? Yep! Just soak and cook them first. It’s a bit of a faff, if you ask me, but worth it if you’ve got time and patience. Canned is my usual, though—no shame.
Is there a vegetarian version? Absolutely, just skip the bacon and use olive oil instead (but, y’know, it’ll miss that smoky hug… maybe a pinch of smoked paprika? I tried it once—it’s Not. The. Same. But it’ll do!)
Can I freeze it? For sure! Just cool it down completely, portion into containers, and freeze. Thaw gently and give it a good stir when you reheat. That said, it never makes it to the freezer here because we eat it all. Every time.
What if I want it spicier? Add a pinch of chili flakes or a wee dash of hot sauce. Or both, if you’re feeling adventurous. I do this when it’s just the grownups eating.
What if it separates on reheating? Just stir and it'll come back together. Sometimes soup just throws a wobbly, but no worries.

Oh, before I forget, if you want to pair your soup with a classic homemade bread, here’s the recipe I use—though be warned: you’ll never want store bought again. Anyway, hope you love the soup. Let me know if you try something wild with it… someone once added a spoon of maple syrup and swears by it, but I’m not there. Yet.

Cozy Bean with Bacon Soup