Let Me Tell You About This Cozy Chowder…

Okay, so—true story, the first time I made potato and sausage chowder, I somehow managed to drop my phone into the potatoes (don’t ask). It survived, but I think it still smells faintly of onion. This chowder, though? Absolute soul food. It’s my go-to whenever it’s grey and miserable outside, which—if you’re anywhere near Manchester in winter, you know that’s most days.

I still remember my dad wandering into the kitchen to “check if it’s done” (translation: stealing hunks of sausage straight form the pot) and then insisting it needed “just five more minutes” every time. He’s not wrong, but also not right. Anyway—welcome to a little bit of my family in a bowl.

Why You’ll Love This (Or At Least, Why I Do)

I make this when I’ve had a rough day, or if the week’s just been a slog—just being honest. My family literally gets excited if they spot potatoes, onions, and a pack of sausages on the counter. Honestly, you don’t need a reason; it’s like a big edible sweater. Plus, it’s the one soup my 9-year-old won’t pick apart (seriously, she counts carrot chunks in most things). On occasion, I’ve tried to speed up the process—bad idea; patience is a flavor, never forget.

Your Ingredients—With a Few Tangents

500g potatoes, peeled and chopped (Anything waxy or starchy is fine—King Edward or Yukon Gold, but I’ve grabbed red-skinned ones in a hurry and survived)
250g good quality sausage, cut into coins (Smoky kielbasa is dreamy, but regular pork sausage is perfect; veggie sausage worked once for a friend)
1 large onion, diced (Red or yellow—my gran was fussy and insisted on yellow, but I rebel on a Friday)
2 cloves garlic, minced (or 1 really giant one, if you’re feeling lazy like me sometimes)
4 cups chicken stock (homemade is lush, but a good bouillon cube will see you right)
1 cup whole milk (I’ve used half-and-half when I wanted it a bit richer—skim if you’re in a pinch, but I think it’s watery)
2 tablespoons butter (I’ve done olive oil instead, in a “I’m out of butter” panic)
1 large carrot, diced (no carrot? Don’t sweat it—celery works, though I don’t love it as much)
Salt and pepper to taste (I go heavy on cracked black pepper, not everyone likes that much bite)
Small handful fresh parsley, chopped (completely optional but looks posh if you’re showing off for guests)

How I Actually Make Potato and Sausage Chowder

First, grab a biggish pot (Dutch oven if you’ve got one, but honestly, any pot that doesn’t scorch easily will do). Melt your butter over medium heat and toss in the sausage coins. Let them brown a bit—seriously, the color matters. I stand there and stir absentmindedly while checking for missed texts.
Sling in the chopped onion and carrot next. Let those cook down with the sausage—about five minutes till they go a bit see-through and slightly sweet. This is where it’ll smell like a proper kitchen.
Chuck in that garlic for a quick minute; don’t let it burn or you’ll have to start over (I’ve done this—makes the next hour grumpier).
Toss in the potatoes, give it a good stir, and pour in the chicken stock. Bring to a gentle simmer. Here’s when I sneak a potato chunk out—chef’s prerogative?
Let it simmer away until the potatoes are soft and almost falling apart—this is about 15–20 minutes (if you can hear stomachs rumbling, you’re almost there).
Reduce the heat, stir in the milk, and just let it gently warm through. Don’t boil it at this point or the milk goes weird, and nobody wants weird soup. If it’s too thick, splash in a bit more stock or even water—it won’t ruin anything. Taste for seasoning—more salt? More pepper? Go wild.
Ladle into bowls, sprinkle with parsley (or not, I forget half the time), and serve piping hot. Dunk in a hunk of bread if you fancy.

Notes That Only Came From Messing Up

I once used a food processor to dice the potatoes. Bad plan—turned into literal mash in the soup. Knife is best, trust me.
If you want it creamier, mash a few potatoes against the side of the pot at the end. Actually, I think this is better than adding cream.
Forgotten to defrost your sausage? Slices chunkier, but doesn’t really matter… just adds to the texture.

If You’re in a Mood to Experiment

I swapped in sweet potato once. It was fine, but a bit too sweet with the sausage. Not my favourite (but my mate Rob loved it—figures).
Corn can be fun—toss in a handful for colour, especially if you’ve got picky kids.
Thyme or rosemary—herbs always lift things, though sometimes I forget till it’s too late.
Cheddar stirred in at the end makes it extra rich. Don’t try blue cheese—tried it, regretted it. Too strong.

Equipment (But You Can Get By With Less)

Big sturdy pot (Dutch oven if you can swing it, saucepan if not)
Sharp-ish knife (I survived years with a dodgy one before splashing out)
Wooden spoon (or a regular one, I just like the feel)
Chopping board (unless you like chaos)
If you’re missing any of these, improvising with what’s around is half the fun. I once used a clean magazine as a makeshift board. Not ideal, worked though.

Storing Leftovers—If They Ever Get That Far

Scoop leftovers into a container (if you have any—rare in my kitchen), and it’ll keep in the fridge for two, maybe three days. I think it actually tastes better the next day; flavors just meld together in a way that’s magic. Freezes OK as well—though the potatoes go soft. That’s just science, or so I’m told.

Serving Ideas (According to My Family’s Odd Rules)

Bread is non-negotiable—sourdough if you’re fancy, but plain white batches are my usual. Sometimes I serve it with pickles, which started as a dare but turned weirdly traditional. My cousin dunks crisps in hers. I don’t get it, but to each their own.

Things I Learned the Hard Way (Pro Tips, Maybe)

Don’t rush the simmering stage. I tried turning up the heat once—potatoes got weirdly gluey.
Add milk after simmering, not before. I got distracted by a football match and ended up splitting it.
Taste as you go, but try not to eat the whole pot before serving, like certain unnamed teenagers in my house.

Real Questions I’ve Been Asked (No, Really)

Can I make this vegetarian?: Yeah! Use veggie sausage and swap the stock for veggie broth. Still lovely, though a bit less, um, hearty?
Can I freeze it?: Technically yes, but the spuds break down and it becomes kinda thick. Still edible, just not as pretty—it’s never stopped me.
Do I have to peel the potatoes?: Honestly, I don’t half the time. The skins add texture and I swear there’s vitamins in there somewhere.
What’s the best sausage to use?: Up to you! Kielbasa gives a smoky vibe. Plain old pork sausage, chopped, is classic. Even chicken sausage works. Just don’t go for anything super spicy—overpowers the whole pot.
If I want to double the recipe?: Go ahead, but maybe use a really big pot. Or two pots—learned that after a spectacular boil-over.

For genuinely useful extras, I use this Smitten Kitchen spin for inspiration, and if you want to make perfect homemade stock, Serious Eats gets into the science of it.

So there you go. If you make this chowder, hopefully your kitchen will smell like love (or at least not like burnt garlic). And remember: if all else fails, add more bread. Or cheese. Or both, life’s short.