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Campfire Stew -- The Hundred-Dollar Yes

Camila turns seven on October 8. Her singing party plans are more ambitious each year: ten songs, a themed costume (she wants to dress as Selena, which requires a bustier that is not age-appropriate and we have compromised on a purple jumpsuit that evokes Selena without the bustier — the Selena-adjacent costume, I call it), and a guest list of thirty people, which is more people than we have chairs and which Camila considers a "them problem, not a me problem."

Señora Perez told me that Camila should audition for the El Paso Children's Chorus. A real chorus. A real audition. A real musical education that would take her voice from exceptional to trained, from natural to disciplined, from the coffee table to the stage. The audition is in November. The program costs one hundred dollars a month. One hundred dollars a month is a lot. One hundred dollars a month is twelve hundred a year. But Camila's voice is worth twelve hundred a year because Father Morales cried and Señora Perez used the word "exceptional" and exceptional things deserve investment, even when the investment means one fewer month of savings in the Juírez fund.

I said yes. I said yes to the audition and I said yes to the cost and I said yes to the idea that my daughter — the pink-backpack, dog-requesting, raisin-hating, volume-11 daughter who has been singing since she could stand — might be something more than a coffee-table performer. She might be a real singer. She might be the voice that fills rooms, the way Rosa was the hands that filled kitchens, and the filling is the gift, and the gift deserves a stage, and the stage deserves the hundred dollars.

I made pozole for the week — the red kind, the fall kind, the warming-up kind. The pozole simmered while I thought about money: the bakery earns enough to live on and a little more, but the little more is stretched thin across five children and a deployment care-package budget and a Juírez fund and now a children's chorus fee, and the stretching is the math of a life lived carefully, where every dollar has a name and every name is a child and every child is worth the dollar even when the dollar is the last one.

Luis Jr. sent a photograph. From somewhere he cannot name. He is in uniform, standing in front of a building, squinting against a sun that is hotter and brighter than the El Paso sun. He looks thin. He looks strong. He looks like a man who is far from home and carrying it with him anyway — in the dog tags around his neck, in the rosary in his pocket, in the taste of tamales that crossed an ocean to reach him. I put the photograph on the refrigerator. The refrigerator holds everything.

The pozole was already on my mind when I decided to make something even simpler for the tail end of the week — something that could stretch across two dinners without complaint, something the little ones would eat without negotiation, something that simmered while I sat with the math of a life where every dollar has a name. Campfire stew is that kind of food: humble, filling, the kind of pot that asks nothing of you except time. It felt right for a week when I’d already made the big yes, and now just needed to hold everything else steady.

Campfire Stew

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs ground beef
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 medium russet potatoes, peeled and cubed (about 3 cups)
  • 3 medium carrots, sliced into rounds
  • 2 stalks celery, sliced
  • 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes, with juice
  • 1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
  • 3 cups beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a spoon, until browned and no longer pink, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
  2. Sauté aromatics. Add the diced onion and celery to the pot. Cook over medium heat until softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute more.
  3. Build the base. Stir in the tomato paste, chili powder, smoked paprika, and oregano. Cook for 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly, until the paste darkens slightly and the spices bloom.
  4. Add vegetables and liquid. Add the potatoes, carrots, diced tomatoes (with juice), beef broth, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir everything together and bring to a boil over high heat.
  5. Simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 20–25 minutes, or until the potatoes and carrots are fork-tender.
  6. Finish with beans and corn. Stir in the kidney beans and drained corn. Cook uncovered for 5 minutes more to heat through and allow the stew to thicken slightly. Season with salt and black pepper to taste.
  7. Serve. Ladle into bowls and serve warm. Crusty bread or warm tortillas alongside make it a full meal.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 380 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 620mg

Maria Elena Gutierrez
About the cook who shared this
Maria Elena Gutierrez
Week 180 of Maria Elena’s 30-year story · El Paso, Texas
Maria Elena was born in Ciudad Juárez, crossed the border at twenty with nothing but her mother's recipes in her head, and built a life in El Paso one tortilla at a time. She owns Panadería Rosa, a tiny bakery named after the mother who taught her that cooking is prayer and waste is sin. She has five children, a husband who chose the family over the beer, and a stack of handwritten recipes that she guards like sacred text — because they are.

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