Sopa De Lima – Yucatán-Style Lime Soup With Chicken, Crispy Tortilla Strips, And Bright Citrusy Broth.
My cousin Rafael tried to make this soup after watching one YouTube video, ¡ay Dios mío! The disaster… it smelled like sadness and limes.
This Sopa de Lima? It’s from Yucatán. See, Yucatán is different. It feels like another country inside Mexico—hot, humid, Mayans. They have habaneros in everything (Rafael didn’t know this!), even their candy. The Spaniards came, but the Maya stayed strong. Their flavors blended… citrus, achiote (that red coloring), the sour orange called naranja agria. That's what gives the soup its zing, mija. You won’t find this soup anywhere else tasting quite right, because of that naranja agria.
Now, my family, we are Oaxaqueños originally—mole, chapulines (grasshoppers!), all that good stuff. But my grandmother, she married a Yucateco. A handsome man, they say, who knew how to make a sopa de lima that could bring a grown man to tears. He taught my abuelita, she taught my mamá, and well, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice. Too much practice, maybe? My sister, Elena, she thinks she makes it better. ¡Mentira! She always puts too much cilantro.
Elena and I, we are competitive. We compete over everything: husbands, best outfits for church, who makes the best tamales… and sopa de lima. It started when we were little girls. We would each try to sneak extra lime juice into our bowls, hoping to make the other one pucker up. Mama would whack us both with the chancla if she caught us. Oh, the chancla! A beautiful weapon. (Don't tell her I said that.)
Last Christmas, the competition was fierce. Everyone was sick with a cold, begging for Sopa de Lima. Elena, she tried to impress everyone by using fancy organic chicken. Like that matters in soup! I used the regular pollo, and it tasted much better. Don Ricardo, the cute neighbor with the silver hair, he actually asked for seconds of mine! Elena glared daggers at me. You should have seen it.
And then there's Tía Mildred. Lord help us, Tía Mildred. She "helps" in the kitchen. Which means she tastes everything, criticizes everything, and somehow manages to spill something on every surface. She claims her secret ingredient is love, but I suspect it’s just too much cumin. She once suggested adding pineapple. Pineapple! In Sopa de Lima! I almost fainted.
One year, Tía Mildred decided to “help” me with the tortilla strips. She set them on top of the stove to cool, and then went to gossip with my cousin Rosa. The cat jumped up there—a fluffy monster named Pelusa—and knocked the whole plate onto the floor. ¡Un desastre! Crispy tortilla shards everywhere. Tía Mildred blamed Pelusa, of course.
Remember Don Ricardo? He's single. And very polite. Elena keeps trying to set him up with her friend’s daughter, but I think he likes me better. He always compliments my cooking. He winked at me last week when I was taking out the trash! Elena saw, and practically exploded. She tried to sabotage my grocery shopping trip by hiding all the naranja agria. I found it, naturally.
I make this soup whenever someone is feeling down. It's like a hug in a bowl. My nephew, little Mateo, had his heart broken by a girl in kindergarten (yes, already!), and I made him a huge pot of sopa de lima. He said it made him feel better. Maybe because it distracted him from the heartbreak with deliciousness.
My mama always says the key to good Sopa de Lima is patience. You have to let the flavors meld together slowly. And you need to use good ingredients. Don't skimp on the lime juice! And definitely don’t add pineapple. Seriously. Elena still brings it up sometimes. (She thinks she's funny.) But really, it's about family, isn't it? About sharing something warm and comforting with the people you love. Even if they secretly try to one-up you.
It's a tradition, see? A little bit of Yucatán sunshine in every spoonful. And a whole lot of family drama, which honestly, makes it taste even better. This soup...it’s not just food, mija, it’s a story.
Recipe
Ingredients 🌽🥘
- 1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs (¡Más sabor!)
- 8 cups chicken broth (good quality is important)
- 1 medium white onion, roughly chopped
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 cup naranja agria juice (sour orange juice, or a mix of orange & lime)
- 1/4 cup fresh lime juice (¡No te quedes corto!)
- 1 habanero pepper, seeded and minced (optional, for heat – use gloves!)
- 1 tbsp achiote paste
- 1 tsp ground cumin
- 1/2 tsp dried oregano
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
- 6 corn tortillas, cut into thin strips
- 2 tbsp vegetable oil, for frying the tortillas
- Fresh cilantro, chopped, for garnish
- Thinly sliced radish, for garnish
Tools 🔪🥄
- Large pot or Dutch oven
- Cutting board
- Knife
- Citrus juicer
- Frying pan
- Slotted spoon
Steps
- Place the chicken thighs in the large pot and cover with the chicken broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through. ¡Paciencia!
- Remove the chicken from the pot and shred it with two forks. Set aside. Don’t throw away the broth – that’s where all the flavor is!
- In the same pot, sauté the onion and garlic in a little bit of the chicken broth until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the achiote paste, cumin, and oregano. Stir well to combine. It’ll look like a beautiful red sauce.
- Pour in the naranja agria juice and lime juice. Add the minced habanero pepper if using. Season with salt and pepper to taste. (Taste often! Adjust the lime if needed.)
- Return the shredded chicken to the pot. Simmer for another 15 minutes to allow the flavors to meld together. If Elena sees you doing this right, she'll be jealous.
- While the soup simmers, heat the vegetable oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat. Fry the tortilla strips in batches until golden brown and crispy. Drain on paper towels. ¡Crunchy goodness!
- Ladle the soup into bowls. Garnish with crispy tortilla strips, fresh cilantro, and thinly sliced radish. Serve immediately. Don Ricardo will be waiting.
Make-Ahead / Storage
- The soup can be made up to 2 days ahead of time and stored in the refrigerator.
- Tortilla strips are best enjoyed fresh, but can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 1 day (they will lose some crispness).
- Leftover soup can be reheated gently on the stovetop or in the microwave.
- Freezing is not recommended as it may affect the texture of the soup.
Side Dish Pairing
- Panuchos: Small, puffy tortillas filled with black beans and topped with shredded turkey, pickled onions, and avocado. They complement the bright, citrusy flavor of the soup perfectly.
- Sikiil Pak: A Mayan pumpkin seed dip – earthy, spicy, and a fantastic contrast to the broth.
Mi abuelita siempre decía, "Un poco de limón arregla todo, mija"
- my grandmother always said, "A little lemon fixes everything, dear."
