Bean Burritos — The Pot That Stays Warm

Mamma called Tuesday morning at 10 AM, as she always does, as she has done since she had a phone of her own in 1953. She wanted to know what I was making for dinner. The question matters to her in a way that I now understand at sixty-eight in a way I did not understand at thirty. The asking is the love. The answering is the love. The conversation is the bridge across the days. We talked for nineteen minutes. Mamma is ninety. The phone calls are precious and finite. I do not waste them. Anna sent photos from Minneapolis — the kids in their school uniforms, David's new bookshelf, the dog (their dog, not mine; their dog is named Cooper, and Cooper is a Bernese mountain dog who weighs more than Anna and who is, by all accounts, the most relaxed dog in the upper Midwest). I printed three of the photos and put them on the fridge. The fridge holds the family that is not currently in the kitchen. Elsa called from Voyageurs. She had a sighting of a wolf — a single gray adult crossing a frozen bay at dawn, fifty yards from her cabin. She had a sighting of a moose two days later. She is happy in the woods. I am glad someone in this family is happy in the woods. I have always loved Lake Superior, but the deeper woods are not for me. Elsa is for the deeper woods. The match is right. I cooked Split pea soup with ham this week. The ham bone from the Easter ham, saved in the freezer for exactly this purpose. Split peas soaked overnight. Onion, carrot, celery, the ham bone, water to cover, two hours of low simmer. The peas dissolve into a thick green sea. The ham falls off the bone. I shred the meat back in. Salt, pepper, a slice of buttered rye to dip. Damiano Thursday: a young father came in with two small children. He had not eaten in a day. The children had crackers from a bus station. I gave them three bowls each. They ate without speaking. The father wept silently while he ate. I pretended not to notice. Scandinavian decorum, applied with care. After he left, Gerald and I stood at the pot for a long minute. We did not speak. We knew what we had seen. The pot stayed warm. I miss Erik. I have been missing Erik more than I anticipated. I knew I would miss him, but I had not realized how often the missing would surface — in small specific moments, like noticing the wood pile is low and remembering that he used to chop it for me, or looking at the calendar and seeing the Sunday and knowing he is not coming for dinner. Erik was the closest person to me in space and time. The space and time are now not closed by anyone in particular. The kids fill the gap as they can. The gap is still a gap. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. It is enough.

The split pea soup fed the week — the memories, the silence after the father left, the low ache of Erik’s empty Sunday. But soup is not always what the hands reach for next, and this week I found myself turning to something I could fold shut and hand to someone quickly: a bean burrito, warm and dense and honest, the kind of thing that costs almost nothing and fills a person completely. There is dignity in a well-made burrito, the same dignity as a bowl of soup — it asks nothing of the person eating it and gives everything it has. After what Gerald and I saw on Thursday, that felt like exactly the right thing to make.

Bean Burritos

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
• 2 cans (15 oz each) refried beans
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1/2 cup salsa
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• Salt and black pepper, to taste
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil or butter, for the pan
• Optional: sliced jalapeños, chopped cilantro, hot sauce

Instructions

1. Warm the beans. Pour the refried beans into a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Stir in the cumin, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Heat gently for 5–7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until warmed through and smooth.
2. Warm the tortillas. Wrap the flour tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30 seconds, or warm them one at a time in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 20 seconds per side. Keep them covered so they stay pliable.
3. Assemble the burritos. Lay each tortilla flat on a clean surface. Spread a generous 1/2 cup of warm beans down the center, leaving a 1-inch border on each side. Top with 1/4 cup shredded cheese, a spoonful of salsa, and a dollop of sour cream. Add any optional toppings.
4. Fold and roll. Fold the short ends of the tortilla inward over the filling, then roll tightly from one long side to the other, enclosing the filling completely. Press gently to seal.
5. Toast in the pan. Heat the oil or butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Place the burritos seam-side down and cook for 2–3 minutes until golden and lightly crisp. Flip and cook the other side for another 2 minutes.
6. Serve warm. Slice on the diagonal if desired. Serve immediately with extra salsa, sour cream, or hot sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 16g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 10g | Sodium: 820mg