Classic Beef Chili

It rained Tuesday morning and I took it personally, which is unfair to weather but accurate to my mood. 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.

Brandon golfed Saturday morning, attended his executive secretary meeting Sunday morning, and did the dishes Wednesday night, which is the rhythm of our life now. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.

The recipe of the week was classic beef chili, 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. Sunday prep is twenty-eight bags. I time myself. The accountant never leaves. 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.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan is 21, in Manila on his mission, and his last email mentioned a chicken adobo so good he is going to make me make it when he comes home. Olivia is 19, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 16, 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 15, 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 12, 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.

I will close the laptop in a moment. I will go to bed. I will get up tomorrow. The freezer will be there. The photograph will be there. The work will be there. So will I.

This is the chili I mentioned — the one I’ve refined to a printed system, the one Brandon helped me bag on Sunday while the conversation ran long and I let it. It feeds eight, it freezes beautifully, and it costs under fifteen dollars, which are the three requirements I do not negotiate on. If you make it on a Sunday when the light comes through at that particular fall angle and someone you love is willing to chop onions beside you, so much the better.

Prep Time: 26 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 11 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs lean ground beef (85/15)
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 cans (15 oz each) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
2 cans (14.5 oz each) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
1 cup beef broth
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a spoon, until no pink remains, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat and set beef aside.
Soften the vegetables. In the same pot over medium heat, add diced onion and bell pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add spices. Stir in chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly, to bloom the spices.
Combine and simmer. Return the browned beef to the pot. Add kidney beans, black beans, diced tomatoes, tomato paste, and beef broth. Stir well to combine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low.
Simmer low and slow. Cover partially and simmer for 30–35 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened and the flavors have melded. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Cool and portion. For freezer meals, allow chili to cool completely before dividing into freezer-safe bags or containers in 1-cup or 2-cup portions. Label with name and date. Freeze for up to 3 months. Reheat on the stovetop over medium-low heat or in the microwave.

Nutrition (per serving)

Classic Beef Chili — The Recipe I’ve Made a Hundred Times and Still Print Out for Other People