Grilled Beef Chimichangas

Brandon golfed on Saturday and came home pleased with himself, which is the desired outcome of golf. 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.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan, 20, is in the Philippines on his mission. He sends emails on Mondays. I read them on Mondays. The day is now structured around his email. Olivia is 18, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 15, 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 14, 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 11, 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.

The recipe of the week was honey garlic chicken, 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. The freezer in the garage is the freezer of record. The freezer in the pantry is the freezer of convenience. The distinction matters. 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.

I prayed on Thursday morning for the first time in two weeks, which the therapist would call worth noting. I noted it. I am still a Latter-day Saint. I am also a woman who has sat in front of a casket the size of a bread box. I do not see those two things as contradictions, but I do not pretend they sit easily together either. The bench in the chapel where I sit on Sunday is the same bench. The woman is not. The faith makes room for the woman. That is what I have learned to ask of it.

Dinner is in the freezer. Tomorrow is coming. I am ready.

The honey garlic chicken went into the freezer on Sunday, but the chimichangas are what I reach for when I want something that feels like I meant it — something with enough heft to land on the table and stay there. Twenty-eight bags takes two hours and eleven minutes this week, give or take a husband who asks good questions while he chops onions, and this recipe earns its spot in the rotation because it holds in the freezer without apology and reheats like it was always supposed to be tonight’s dinner. That’s the standard. That’s the only standard that matters.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs lean ground beef
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup salsa (medium or mild)
2 tsp chili powder
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 cups shredded Mexican blend cheese
8 large (10-inch) flour tortillas
2 tbsp olive oil or cooking spray (for grilling)
Sour cream, guacamole, and pico de gallo for serving

Instructions

Brown the beef. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef, breaking it apart with a spoon, until no pink remains, about 8–10 minutes. Drain excess fat.
Build the filling. Add the diced onion to the skillet and cook until softened, about 3 minutes. Stir in the garlic, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Cook 1 minute until fragrant.
Add beans and salsa. Stir in the black beans and salsa. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid has reduced. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Assemble the chimichangas. Lay a tortilla flat. Spoon about 1/2 cup of filling down the center. Top with 1/4 cup shredded cheese. Fold in the sides, then roll tightly from the bottom up, burrito-style. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
Grill until golden. Heat a grill pan or skillet over medium heat and brush lightly with olive oil. Place chimichangas seam-side down and cook 3–4 minutes per side until golden brown and lightly crisp. Work in batches as needed.
Serve. Plate immediately with sour cream, guacamole, and pico de gallo on the side. For freezer storage, wrap each assembled (ungrilled) chimichanga tightly in foil, place in a labeled freezer bag, and freeze up to 3 months. Grill directly from thawed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Beef Chimichangas — The Meal That Proves Tomorrow Is Already Handled