I moved back to DeKalb on Saturday. Dad drove the truck — the same borrowed pickup he's used for every move since Matt went to ISU in 2007, belonging to his buddy Frank, who charges nothing but expects a case of Miller Lite in return. Fair trade. We loaded it in forty minutes because I don't own much. A dorm room's worth of stuff fits in the back of a pickup with room for a mini fridge and a laundry basket full of shoes. Mom stood in the driveway and said, "Call me when you get there," three times, which is her version of "I love you and I'm terrified and I can't say that so I'll say a practical thing instead."
Before I left, I went to Jess's house. She was on the porch again — porch is still good, porch is still the metric I use — and she hugged me, which Jess doesn't do often because Jess doesn't do soft unless she means it. She said, "Go be smart, Mandy." I said, "Call me if you need anything." She said, "I'll call you if I want to. Don't make it a duty." That stung the way only true things sting. I drove to DeKalb with the windows down and Dad beside me talking about the Cubs' pitching rotation, which is his version of not talking about anything that matters.
Sunday I unpacked and organized the mini kitchen situation in my dorm. I have a hot plate, a microwave, one good skillet, and the kind of determination that substitutes for actual counter space. I made a big batch of black bean soup — two cans of black beans, a can of diced tomatoes, onion, garlic, cumin, a little chili powder, simmered until it's thick enough to eat with chips or pour over rice. Total cost: maybe three dollars. Enough for four meals. I portioned it into containers and stacked them in the mini fridge like I was building a wall between me and the dining hall's mystery meat.
The room is smaller than I remember. My roommate, Katie, is nice in the way that people who've never had a complicated thought are nice — cheerful, uncomplicated, asleep by ten. I envy her. I lie awake and calculate the distance between DeKalb and Oak Lawn — sixty-three miles, fifty-eight if you take I-88 — and I think about Jess on the porch and I think about Babcia Rose's hands getting slower and I think about five classes this semester and I think: I can do this. I have black bean soup and a hot plate and a plan. The plan is to survive. The soup helps.
The soup wasn’t just dinner—it was proof that I could make something out of almost nothing, that sixty-three miles from home didn’t have to mean helpless. When you’re lying awake doing the math on everything you can’t control, there’s something grounding about a recipe with five ingredients and a thirty-minute cook time. Here’s exactly how I made it on that hot plate, portioned it into four containers, and built myself a little wall.
Easy Black Bean Soup
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 tablespoon olive oil or vegetable oil
- 1 cup water or low-sodium vegetable broth
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat the oil in a skillet or saucepan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent. Add the minced garlic and cook for another 30 seconds until fragrant.
- Add spices. Stir in the cumin and chili powder and cook for 30 seconds, letting the spices bloom in the oil. This deepens the flavor without adding any cost.
- Add beans and tomatoes. Pour in the drained black beans and the full can of diced tomatoes with their juices. Add the water or broth. Stir everything together and bring to a gentle boil.
- Simmer until thick. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 15–20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the soup thickens and the liquid reduces. Use the back of a spoon or a fork to mash some of the beans against the side of the pan — this gives the soup a creamy, hearty texture without any cream.
- Season and portion. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Divide into four containers and refrigerate. Serve over rice, with tortilla chips, or on its own. Reheats perfectly in a microwave.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 11g | Sodium: 480mg