Black Bean–Ancho Soup with Quick Hoja Santa “Brooklyn Pesto” + Limey Cabbage Crunch
This soup is my love letter to two realities: Oaxaca flavor logic and Brooklyn weeknights. In Oaxaca, you toast chiles, you build a base, you let the pot do its thing. In Brooklyn, someone is asking for a snack while you’re trying to find the blender lid. So we compromise—without sacrificing sabor.
The inspiration came from black beans (frijoles negros) simmering at my tía’s house, plus my obsession with hoja santa—that anise-y, peppery green that makes everything taste like a hug. Except I’m not always popping over to a Mexican market on a Tuesday. Enter: “Brooklyn pesto.” Spinach + herbs + pepitas (or whatever nuts you’ve got) + a good glug of oil. Same green perfume vibe, zero drama.
My favorite memory: standing at the stove as a kid, sneaking spoonfuls of beans and getting caught—“¡Mari, tantito!” Now I’m the one saying: Taste it—then decide. Salt matters.
Make it yours: Pantry Mode use canned beans and chipotle instead of ancho. Extra credit: cook dried beans and add real hoja santa if you’ve got it. Don’t skip the limey cabbage crunch—it’s the little party hat on the whole bowl.
Featured Recipe
Black Bean–Ancho Soup with Quick Hoja Santa “Brooklyn Pesto” + Limey Cabbage Crunch
This is my Oaxaca–Brooklyn cozy soup: pantry black beans made taste-like-it-simmered-all-day with a quick toasted-chile base (toast → blend → simmer, ándale). We finish with a herby green drizzle inspired by hoja santa flavors—done the weeknight way with spinach and herbs—plus a crisp limey cabbage crunch so every spoonful has that creamy/crunchy thing I’m always chasing.
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Ingredients
- 2 Dried ancho chiles(stemmed and seeded)
- 1 teaspoon Chipotle in adobo(plus 1 teaspoon adobo sauce; optional for extra smoke/heat)
- 2 tablespoons Neutral oil(divided)
- 1 medium White or yellow onion(half chopped, half thinly sliced (for crunch topping))
- 4 cloves Garlic(3 for soup, 1 for green drizzle)
- 1 1/2 teaspoons Ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon Dried oregano (Mexican if you’ve got it)
- 1 tablespoon Tomato paste(the ‘slow-cooked’ cheat code)
- 2 (15-oz) cans Canned black beans(do not drain—use the bean liquid)
- 3 cups Broth or water(veg broth preferred; water works (just season well))
- 1 teaspoon Soy sauce or Maggi (optional)(Brooklyn umami trick; totally optional)
- 1 1/2 teaspoons Kosher salt(plus more to taste)
- 1/2 teaspoon Black pepper
- 1 cup Frozen spinach(thawed and squeezed dry; or 2 packed cups fresh)
- 1/2 cup Cilantro(tender stems welcome)
- 1/2 cup Baby arugula or basil(arugula = peppery hoja-santa-ish vibes)
- 1/3 cup Pumpkin seeds (pepitas)(toasted if possible (I know, real life))
- 1/4 cup Olive oil(for green drizzle)
- 2 Lime(1 for drizzle, 1 for crunch + serving)
- 2 cups Green cabbage(very thinly sliced)
- 1 tablespoon Apple cider vinegar(or white vinegar)
- 4 Corn tortillas(for quick tostada strips (optional but very smart))
- 1/3 cup Queso fresco or cotija(optional garnish)
- 1/3 cup Crema or plain yogurt(optional garnish (thin with water if needed))
Instructions
- 1
Toast the ancho. Heat a dry skillet (or comal) over medium. Toast the 2 Dried ancho chiles 15–20 seconds per side until fragrant and just darker (not burnt—burnt chile = bitter soup and we’re not suffering for dinner).
3 min
Tip: If you see smoke, you’re one second away from bitter. Pull them.
- 2
Soften + blend the toasted-chile base. In a blender, add toasted anchos, 1 cup hot water, chopped half of the onion, 3 garlic cloves, 1 1/2 teaspoons Ground cumin, 1 teaspoon Dried oregano (Mexican if you’ve got it), 1 tablespoon Tomato paste, and 1 teaspoon Chipotle in adobo if using. Blend until very smooth (add a splash more water if it’s fighting you).
4 min
Tip: Blend longer than you think. Gritty chile = gritty soup.
- 3
Cook the base (this is where it tastes slow). In a pot, heat 1 tablespoon Neutral oil over medium. Pour in the chile puree carefully (it will spit a little). Simmer, stirring, until it darkens and smells like ‘oh wow,’ about 3–4 minutes.
4 min
Tip: This step is the difference between ‘nice’ and ‘who made this?’ Don’t skip.
- 4
Simmer the soup. Add 2 (15-oz) cans Canned black beans with their liquid + 3 cups Broth or water. Add 1 teaspoon Soy sauce or Maggi (optional), 1 1/2 teaspoons Kosher salt, and 1/2 teaspoon Black pepper. Bring to a simmer and cook 10 minutes so the flavors get cozy together.
12 min
Tip: Taste it—then decide. If it tastes flat, it’s usually salt or lime (not more chile).
- 5
Blend (partially or fully—your call). Use an immersion blender to blend until creamy, leaving some texture. No immersion blender? Carefully blend 2–3 cups in a countertop blender and return to the pot.
5 min
Tip: If it gets too thick, loosen with hot water/broth. Black beans love to thicken as they sit.
- 6
Make the quick green drizzle (“Brooklyn pesto”). In the blender (quick rinse is fine), blend 1 cup Frozen spinach, 1/2 cup Cilantro, 1/2 cup Baby arugula or basil, 1/3 cup Pumpkin seeds (pepitas), 1 garlic clove, juice of 1 Lime, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 cup Olive oil. Add 1–3 tablespoons water to get a pourable sauce.
5 min
Tip: This is your ‘finishing move.’ It wakes up the whole pot.
- 7
Make the limey cabbage crunch. In a bowl, toss 2 cups Green cabbage + thin-sliced onion with juice of 1 Lime, 1 tablespoon Apple cider vinegar, a pinch of salt, and a tiny drizzle of oil. Let it sit while you do the next step (it softens just a tantito).
3 min
Tip: Slice it thin—like deli thin. Thick cabbage feels like homework.
- 8
Optional tortilla strips (highly recommended). Slice 4 Corn tortillas into thin strips. In a skillet with 1 tablespoon oil, fry until crisp and golden; salt immediately. (Or bake/air-fry if that’s your life today.)
6 min
Tip: Salt while hot or they taste like nothing. Real life rule.
- 9
Serve like you mean it. Ladle soup into bowls. Swirl in the green drizzle, top with cabbage crunch, tortilla strips, and 1/3 cup Queso fresco or cotija / 1/3 cup Crema or plain yogurt if using. Finish with extra lime at the table.
2 min
Tip: Leftovers get thicker overnight—add a splash of water and re-taste for salt + lime.
Chef's Notes
Two paths, because that’s real life: Pantry Mode (fast): Use canned black beans (with liquid), dried ancho, tomato paste, and frozen spinach. Skip tortilla strips if you’re running on fumes—just crumble tortilla chips on top. Extra Credit (If You’ve Got a Mexican Market Nearby): Swap arugula/basil for hoja santa if you can find it—use 1 large leaf in the green drizzle. Also, toast your pepitas in a dry pan first for 2 minutes (it makes the drizzle taste like it’s been to therapy). Heat control: 0 heat = skip chipotle. Medium = 1 teaspoon chipotle + adobo. Spicy = 1 tablespoon chipotle. Remember: you can always add heat at the bowl, but you can’t un-spice the pot.
María “Mari” Santiago
Oaxacan comfort, Brooklyn shortcuts, weeknight bright.
María “Mari” Santiago was born in Oaxaca, where her earliest kitchen memories are measured in scent: chiles toasting on a comal, cinnamon and chocolate blooming in mole, and the warm, nutty snap of a tlayuda folded in half for the walk home. She learned by watching—first her tías, then her abuela—picking up the small, practical rules that never made it into written recipes: how to tell when the garlic is *just* right, how to rescue a too-spicy salsa, and why you always taste the broth before you add the salt. Now in Brooklyn, Mari cooks the food she grew up on while raising two little kids and juggling real-life time limits. Her style is “real flavor, real life”: traditional Oaxacan and everyday Mexican dishes—moles, caldos, frijoles, enfrijoladas, salsas, and crispy tlayudas—made weeknight-friendly with smart shortcuts, brighter salsas, and more vegetables without losing the soul of the dish. She’s not precious about rules, she’s big on swaps, and she’s on a mission to prove that you can cook deeply flavorful Mexican food with what you can actually find at a normal grocery store (and still get dinner on the table before a meltdown). Mari’s recipes read like a friend texting you from the produce aisle: clear, funny, and unpretentious, with a side of abuela wisdom. If there’s a hard-to-find ingredient, she gives you a realistic alternative, tells you what will change (and what won’t), and keeps the focus where it belongs—on food that tastes like home, even when home is a small Brooklyn kitchen.