Cheeseburger Pasta

The builder called Monday to ask when I'd be back full-time. I said I'm back now, which was technically true if you define back as showing up and standing in one spot pointing at things while other men do the lifting. He didn't push it. He knows I've been running his sites for eleven years and that I'm the reason his houses pass inspection on the first walk-through. But I heard something in his voice — not worry, exactly, but the sound of a man calculating how long he can carry a foreman who can't carry a two-by-four.

Clay came for supper Tuesday. He's been steady since August — going to group, seeing Dr. Rivera, working his restaurant job without complaint. He sat at the kitchen table and watched me lower myself into my chair like a man defusing a bomb and said you ought to see somebody about that. I said I did see somebody. He said you ought to listen to somebody about that. Twenty-one years old and already smarter than me about the things that matter, which is knowing when to quit fighting. I'm not there yet. He got there at twenty. I reckon the Army taught him something the mines never taught me: that retreat isn't surrender, it's strategy.

Betty called Wednesday evening. She sounded tired — not sick tired, just eighty-one tired, the weariness that comes from being the last one standing in a house built for eight. I told her about the back. She said your daddy worked the mines with a cracked rib for two weeks before he told anybody. I said that's not the inspirational story you think it is, Mama. She laughed. She said come see me when you can. I said I'd be down first weekend in November. Three-hour drive each way with a spine that objects to sitting. I'll do it because she asked and because she won't ask twice.

Saturday I made chili — not Texas chili, not competition chili, Kentucky chili. Ground beef browned with onion and garlic, kidney beans and pintos both, tomatoes from the last of what Connie put up in August, chili powder and cumin and a little coffee for depth. Simmered it four hours while I sat at the table because standing at the stove for four hours is currently not in my vocabulary. Topped it with sharp cheddar and raw onion. Cornbread on the side, always cornbread. The chili was good. Hot, thick, the kind of food that doesn't apologize for being simple. Neither do I.

The chili kept me fed all week — Clay took a container home Tuesday, and I ate the last of it cold out of the pot Thursday morning standing at the counter, which I know is not what Dr. Rivera means when she says take care of yourself. On nights when I don’t have four hours to let something simmer, this cheeseburger pasta is what I make: ground beef, a handful of pantry staples, one pot, done before the evening news. It’s the same spirit as the chili — unpretentious, filling, the kind of food that meets you where you are without asking how you got there.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef (80/20)
1 small yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups beef broth
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
2 tablespoons ketchup
1 tablespoon yellow mustard
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cups elbow macaroni, uncooked
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1/4 cup sour cream (optional, for creaminess)

Instructions

Brown the beef. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef and diced onion together, breaking the meat up as it cooks, until no pink remains, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Build the sauce. Stir in the beef broth, diced tomatoes (with juices), tomato sauce, ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil.
Cook the pasta. Add the uncooked macaroni, stir to combine, and reduce heat to medium. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the pasta is tender and most of the liquid is absorbed, about 12–14 minutes.
Add the cheese. Remove from heat. Stir in 1 cup of the shredded cheddar and the sour cream, if using, until melted and smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar. Serve hot, with cornbread or a simple green salad on the side if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheeseburger Pasta — The Comfort of Simple Food That Doesn’t Apologize