Mom's Best Recipes
Recipe

Sweet & Spicy Sancocho

A cozy Latin-inspired stew with tender chicken, root veggies, and a bright citrus finish that wakes everything up.

Author By Matt Campbell
4.8
A steaming bowl of sancocho stew with chicken, yuca, plantain, corn, and a wedge of lime on a wooden table

Sancocho is the kind of stew that makes the whole house smell like you have your life together, even if your kitchen looks like a root vegetable tornado hit it. It is a hearty, slow-simmered pot of meat and starchy goodness, and what shows up in the pot depends on where you are eating it and who is cooking. My take keeps the soul of the dish but adds a little friendly chaos: a sweet and spicy backbone plus a citrus-kissed finish that makes every spoonful feel brighter and more alive.

Here is the vibe: cozy broth, tender chicken, soft yuca, and plantain that melts into the soup like it was born to be there. Then we hit it with orange and lime at the end, so the whole pot tastes like it just sat up straighter. It is weeknight-friendly if you prep a few things ahead, and it is absolutely the move for Sunday dinner when you want leftovers that get even better.

A large pot of sancocho simmering on a stovetop with visible corn rounds and chunks of yuca

Why It Works

  • Big flavor, low drama: We build the base with bold aromatics, warm spices, and a simple sweet heat combo that tastes like it took hours of babysitting.
  • Starch does the thickening: Yuca and plantain naturally give the broth body, so you get that rich, stew-y texture without flour or fuss.
  • Citrus at the end: Orange and lime added off-heat helps keep the flavor bright and fresh.
  • Flexible pot: Swap in pork, add pumpkin or calabaza, or use what is in the crisper. Sancocho is a “use what you have” champion.

Pairs Well With

Storage Tips

Refrigerate: Cool sancocho quickly, then store in airtight containers for up to 4 days. The broth will thicken as the starches settle in. That is a feature, not a bug.

Freeze: Freeze up to 3 months. For best texture, freeze in single portions. Yuca and potatoes can soften a bit after freezing, but the flavor stays excellent.

Reheat: Warm gently on the stovetop over medium-low, adding a splash of water or broth to loosen. Tip: Add a fresh squeeze of lime after reheating to bring the citrus back to life.

Common Questions

What is sancocho, exactly?

Sancocho is a hearty stew popular across many Latin American and Caribbean cuisines. It usually includes meat, a mix of root vegetables or starches, and a savory broth built from aromatics. The exact mix changes by region and by whoever is holding the spoon. For example, Dominican-style sancocho often leans into multiple viandas (like yuca and plantain), while Colombian versions can vary by region and might feature different meats and tubers.

Can I make this in a slow cooker?

Yes. Brown the chicken first if you can, then cook on low for 6 to 8 hours or high for 3 to 5 hours, until the yuca and plantain are fork-tender. Yuca and plantain can be stubborn depending on age and how thick you cut them, so let tenderness be the boss. If you are worried about potatoes getting too soft, add them for the last 2 to 3 hours on low (or last 60 to 90 minutes on high). Stir in citrus off-heat right before serving.

How spicy is it?

As written, it is a gentle, cozy heat. If you want more punch, add an extra jalapeño, a pinch of cayenne, or a hotter pepper like serrano. If you want it mild, skip the jalapeño and use smoked paprika only.

What if I cannot find yuca?

Use extra potatoes plus one of these: taro, parsnips, or sweet potato. The stew will taste a little different, but it will still hit the same comforting notes.

Should I remove the chicken skin?

For a cleaner broth, yes. For maximum flavor, brown skin-on pieces and skim fat later. Either way works. Taste as you go and do not apologize to anyone.

Any tips for yuca?

Yes. Peel it well, and if you see a tough fibrous core, cut it out and discard it. Also, make sure yuca is fully cooked. It should be completely tender, not even a little resistant in the center.

I love soups that feel like they are doing the most with the least. Sancocho is that friend. The first time I made a big pot, I was trying to clean out a random assortment of roots and half-forgotten citrus. I expected “fine.” What I got was a stew that tasted like a hug that learned how to salsa dance. The sweet heat made it cozy, and the orange and lime at the end made me stop mid-bite and rethink my whole “stews are boring” phase.