Beef and Potato Boats

Sunday prep was four hours and twenty-eight freezer meals, which is not my record but is honest work. The week was a fall week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan, 20, is in the Philippines on his mission. He sends emails on Mondays. I read them on Mondays. The day is now structured around his email. Olivia is 18, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 15, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 14, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 11, the comedian, the performer — the kid who does an impression of my disappointed face in front of company, and gets away with it. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

The recipe of the week was soup base in jars, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. The freezer in the garage is the freezer of record. The freezer in the pantry is the freezer of convenience. The distinction matters. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

I prayed on Thursday morning for the first time in two weeks, which the therapist would call worth noting. I noted it. I am still a Latter-day Saint. I am also a woman who has sat in front of a casket the size of a bread box. I do not see those two things as contradictions, but I do not pretend they sit easily together either. The bench in the chapel where I sit on Sunday is the same bench. The woman is not. The faith makes room for the woman. That is what I have learned to ask of it.

Dinner is in the freezer. Tomorrow is coming. I am ready.

The soup base went into jars, and the jars went into the freezer of record, and that was the recipe I was proud of this week — but it’s this one, the Beef and Potato Boats, that I keep coming back to when I want something that photographs the philosophy without needing me to explain it. You make the filling on Sunday. You freeze it in portions. On Tuesday or Thursday or whatever night the week hands you, you bake the potatoes and pull the filling from the freezer and dinner is done before anyone thinks to ask what’s for dinner. Brandon would eat these every week. That is not an exaggeration.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

8 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed
2 lbs lean ground beef
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
1 can (15 oz) corn kernels, drained
1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
1 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
Sour cream and sliced green onions, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Bake the potatoes. Preheat oven to 400°F. Pierce each potato several times with a fork. Place directly on the oven rack and bake for 50–60 minutes, until fork-tender all the way through.
Brown the beef. While potatoes bake, cook ground beef in a large skillet over medium-high heat, breaking it apart as it cooks, until no pink remains, about 8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
Build the filling. Add onion to the skillet with the beef and cook 3–4 minutes until softened. Stir in garlic and cook 1 minute more. Add diced tomatoes, corn, tomato sauce, chili powder, cumin, paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and simmer over medium-low heat for 10 minutes until slightly thickened.
Open the boats. When potatoes are done, cut a lengthwise slit across the top of each one and press the ends gently to open. Fluff the interior slightly with a fork.
Fill and top. Spoon a generous portion of the beef filling into each potato. Top each with a handful of shredded cheddar. Return to the oven (or place under the broiler) for 3–5 minutes until cheese is melted and bubbly.
Serve. Top with sour cream and green onions if desired. Serve immediately.

Freezer Instructions

Cool the beef filling completely and portion into labeled freezer bags or containers (about 1/2 cup per serving). Freeze up to 3 months. To serve, thaw filling overnight in the refrigerator or reheat from frozen in a saucepan over low heat. Bake fresh potatoes the night of serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Beef and Potato Boats — Ready Before Tomorrow Comes