The divorce. Brianna and I have been separated for two and a half months. We have not filed, but we have spoken to lawyers (separately), and the conversations have been civil and sad and adult in the way that divorce conversations are adult — the love is acknowledged, the failure is acknowledged, the children are prioritized. We agree on joint custody. We agree on no alimony (she does not want it; I would pay it if she did). We agree that the credit card debt is shared. We agree on everything except the one thing that matters: how we got here. But that question is for therapy and Sunday dinners and the long, quiet evenings when I stand at the grill and think about the woman I married and the woman who left and whether they were ever the same person.
The apartment is mine now. Not legally — the lease is in both our names — but functionally. Brianna is at Gloria's, building her hair business, raising the kids half the time. I am here, in the apartment that used to hold four people and now holds one, cooking for one, sleeping for one, existing for one. "One" is a lonely number. But it is a real number, and real numbers do not lie.
I have been cooking with increasing ambition. This week I tried Mama's pot roast — chuck roast braised in the oven with carrots, onions, potatoes, and broth. Four hours. The apartment smelled like a home. Not an empty apartment. A home. The pot roast was tender and rich and the gravy was thick and the vegetables were soft and saturated with flavor, and I ate it alone at the table and it was good and it was sad and it was mine.
I am building something. Not a restaurant (not yet — the seed is dormant). Something more fundamental: a kitchen. A daily practice. A way of living that centers on the act of making food and eating food and sharing food. The grill was the beginning. Mama's lessons were the middle. The end — if there is an end — is a kitchen that feeds whoever shows up, a table that holds whoever sits, a man who cooks not because he has to but because he has learned that cooking is how he loves.
Sunday dinner at Mama's. Smothered pork chops. I ate three. Dad ate one. Mama ate two. The table is smaller now — just three of us most Sundays — but the food is the same and the love is the same and the Sunday is the same. Some things hold.
Mama’s pot roast taught me what a braised thing can do to a room — how four hours of low, slow heat can turn an empty apartment into something that breathes. I wanted to hold onto that feeling without repeating it note for note, so I went looking for another long-cooked dish that carried the same weight. General Tso’s Stew answered: bold, saucy, deeply savory, the kind of thing that needs time and rewards patience. It felt right for a man still figuring out who he is on the other side of a loss — familiar enough to be comforting, different enough to be mine.
General Tso’s Stew
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 45 min | Total Time: 2 hr 5 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs beef chuck, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
- 1/3 cup soy sauce
- 3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
- 2 tablespoons brown sugar
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
- 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
- 2 cups beef broth
- 2 tablespoons cornstarch, dissolved in 3 tablespoons cold water
- 2 large carrots, sliced into 1-inch coins
- 2 cups broccoli florets
- 3 green onions, sliced, for garnish
- Sesame seeds, for garnish
- Cooked white rice, for serving
Instructions
- Season and sear. Pat beef cubes dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Heat vegetable oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear beef on all sides until deeply browned, about 2–3 minutes per side. Transfer seared beef to a plate and set aside.
- Build the sauce base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same pot, add garlic and ginger and cook, stirring constantly, for 60 seconds until fragrant. Add soy sauce, hoisin sauce, rice vinegar, brown sugar, sesame oil, and red pepper flakes. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
- Braise low and slow. Return the seared beef to the pot. Pour in beef broth and stir gently to incorporate. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 1 hour 15 minutes, until beef is fork-tender.
- Add the vegetables. Stir in carrot coins and broccoli florets. Cover and cook an additional 15 minutes, until carrots are just tender and broccoli is cooked through but still holds its color.
- Thicken the broth. Stir the cornstarch slurry once more to recombine, then pour it into the stew while stirring constantly. Simmer uncovered for 3–5 minutes until the broth thickens into a glossy, coat-the-spoon sauce.
- Taste and serve. Adjust seasoning with additional soy sauce or red pepper flakes as needed. Ladle over cooked white rice and garnish with sliced green onions and sesame seeds.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 980mg
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 217 of DeShawn’s 30-year story
· Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.