Chipotle Carne Guisada

Bayamón again. Eduardo and I left Sunday. Hartford was eighteen degrees. San Juan was eighty-three. The same physical shock as last year. Marisol picked us up at the airport. She had cooked a welcome meal — arroz con habichuelas and pollo asado — and we ate it at her kitchen table with the windows open and the breeze coming through.

Monday we walked to the lot where the old block house had been. Julio had started building. The foundation was poured. The walls were going up — concrete block, the same way our house had been built — and Marisol said Julio was going to live in it when he retires from the hardware store, which would be in a couple of years. The lot was no longer just dirt. It had a future. I touched the new wall. It was warm from the sun. I cried. Eduardo held my hand.

Tuesday we went to the cemetery again. Same flowers. Same prayers. I told Abuela Consuelo and Papi about La Cocina. About the city contract. About the cohorts. About Diana. I told them about Mami. I told them she was coming. I told them the wake plan was ready. I told them they would have her with them soon and that I would not be ready when it happened.

Wednesday we drove to the south coast. Guánica. We had not been there in twenty years. The water was the color it had always been. We ate at a small kiosk on the beach — fried red snapper, tostones, beer, the simple food — and Eduardo said, "Carmen, this is right." I said, "Eduardo, I know." We sat on a beach chair for two hours. He did not talk. I did not talk. The sun did its work.

Thursday I called Sofía. Sofía said, "Ma, Mami is okay. She is okay-tired. She is not okay-bad. She is in the okay-tired range." I said, "Mija, define okay-tired." She said, "Ma, sleeping fourteen hours, eating small, lucid in the lucid hours, comfortable. The trajectory is the same as before you left." I said, "Mija, thank you." She said, "Ma, kiss Eduardo. Eat the culantro." I obeyed.

Friday Marisol and Eduardo cooked together. Marisol made the sofrito. Eduardo grated the yautía. He had earned grating privileges since October. Marisol was impressed. She said, "Carmen, your husband can grate." I said, "Marisol, I taught him." Eduardo said, "Marisol, my wife taught me." Marisol said, "Eduardo, you are a good student." We laughed.

Sunday we flew home. Hartford was twenty-four degrees and dark. Eduardo said in the car, "Carmen, the trip was good." I said, "Eduardo, yes." We drove home. The house was cold. I made tea. Eduardo went to bed. I stayed up an hour and looked at the kitchen and I was glad to be home and sad to be home in equal measure. Wepa.

When Eduardo and I landed back in Hartford at twenty-four degrees, I made tea and I sat in the kitchen and I thought about Marisol’s sofrito — the way it hit the caldero and the whole house changed. I could not make her sofrito that night. But I could make a guisado. I could braise something low and slow until the kitchen smelled like something that wanted us there. This chipotle carne guisada is what I made the next evening: a deep, smoky, long-cooked stew that gives the cold house something to argue with. Eduardo ate two bowls and said, “Carmen, this is right.” It was the same thing he said in Guánica. He meant it both times.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 45 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 5 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs beef chuck, trimmed and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, finely minced
1 tablespoon adobo sauce (from the can)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 medium Roma tomatoes, diced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
2 cups beef broth, low sodium
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped, for garnish
Cooked white rice or warm tortillas, for serving

Instructions

Season the beef. Pat the beef cubes dry with paper towels. Season on all sides with salt and black pepper. Toss with the flour until lightly coated, shaking off any excess.
Sear in batches. Heat vegetable oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in two batches so you don’t crowd the pan, sear the beef cubes for 2–3 minutes per side until deeply browned. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Build the sofrito base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same pot, add onion and green bell pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until softened and the fond begins to lift. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add tomato and chipotle. Stir in the diced tomatoes, tomato paste, minced chipotle peppers, and adobo sauce. Cook for 3–4 minutes, stirring frequently, until the tomato paste deepens in color and the mixture is fragrant. Add cumin and oregano and stir to combine.
Braise low and slow. Return the seared beef to the pot along with any accumulated juices from the plate. Pour in the beef broth and stir to combine. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 1 hour 30 minutes, stirring every 30 minutes, until the beef is fork-tender and the sauce has thickened to a rich, gravy-like consistency.
Taste and finish. Adjust salt to taste. If the sauce is thinner than you prefer, uncover and simmer on low for an additional 10 minutes to reduce. Remove from heat and let rest 5 minutes before serving.
Serve. Ladle over white rice or alongside warm tortillas. Finish with fresh cilantro over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chipotle Carne Guisada — The Warmth We Carried Home to Hartford