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Ground Beef Chili Mac And Cheese — The Warmth That Shows Up When You Need It

Pipeline work was brutal this week. We're running twelve-hour shifts on a section near Cushing, and the May heat is starting to show up with intent. Oklahoma in May isn't the oven it'll be in July, but when you're welding in full leathers with a hood over your face, eighty-five degrees feels like a hundred and ten. By Thursday my arms were so tired I could barely grip the steering wheel on the way home. Hannah took one look at me and put the kids to bed early, which is the married-couple version of an emergency room visit.

Friday night I didn't feel like cooking, which is rare for me and worrying for Hannah, because Jesse Whitehawk not wanting to cook is like a creek not wanting to flow — something is wrong. But I was just tired. The kind of tired that sits in your bones and won't be negotiated with. So Hannah made dinner — posole, from Mom's recipe, the one that Abuela Rosa taught Mom, the one with hominy and pork and red chiles. Hannah's posole is different from Mom's — lighter on the chiles, heavier on the hominy, and she adds traditional Cherokee spicebush berries that she gets from an elder in Tahlequah, which gives it this warm, almost allspice-like undertone that Rosa would have been confused by and Mom would call "interesting," which is Mom's word for "wrong but I love you."

I ate three bowls. The tiredness didn't go away but it moved over enough to make room for something warmer, and that's what food does when it's made by someone who knows you're hurting — it doesn't fix the hurt, but it sits next to it and keeps it company.

Saturday I took Kai to the hardware store, which is his favorite outing because he's three and the hardware store has things you can touch. He sat in the cart and pointed at everything and said "what's that" approximately four hundred times, and I answered every one because that's what dads do and because someday he'll stop asking and I'll miss it so much I won't be able to breathe. I bought a new welding tip for my home setup and some lumber for a shelf Mom asked me to build, and Kai got a free popcorn from the lady at the front, and that was our Saturday — father and son, hardware store, popcorn, simple.

Sunday I built the shelf at Mom's house while Dad supervised from his chair, telling me it was crooked when it wasn't and that I was using the wrong screws when I wasn't and that he would have done it differently, which is true because Danny Whitehawk would have done everything differently and probably better, and I love him for the criticism because it means he's still here, still paying attention, still being my dad from a lawn chair with an oxygen tube in his nose.

Hannah’s posole is hers and Mom’s and Abuela Rosa’s, and I wouldn’t dare try to reproduce it — some recipes belong to the person who makes them, and that one belongs to her. But that Friday night reminded me of what I reach for when it’s my turn to be the one who shows up for the family: something hearty and one-pot and done before anybody gets too hungry or too tired to sit at the table. This Ground Beef Chili Mac And Cheese is that dish for me — it’s got the same warming, stick-to-you quality as a bowl of posole, just in a form I can pull together on a weeknight with what’s already in the pantry. It won’t replace what Hannah made, but it’ll hold you the same way.

Ground Beef Chili Mac And Cheese

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground beef (80/20)
  • 8 oz elbow macaroni, uncooked
  • 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
  • 1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles (such as Rotel)
  • 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 2 cups beef broth
  • 1 small yellow onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 1/2 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until fully browned with no pink remaining, about 6–7 minutes. Drain off excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pan.
  2. Cook the aromatics. Add the diced onion to the pan and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Bloom the spices. Stir in the chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper. Cook, stirring constantly, for 30 seconds to toast the spices and coat the meat.
  4. Add liquid and pasta. Pour in the beef broth, diced tomatoes, and diced tomatoes with green chiles. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the uncooked macaroni and stir to distribute evenly. Bring to a boil over high heat.
  5. Simmer until pasta is tender. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook for 10–12 minutes, stirring every 3–4 minutes to prevent sticking, until the macaroni is al dente and most of the liquid has been absorbed into a thick, saucy base.
  6. Stir in the beans. Add the drained kidney beans and stir gently to incorporate. Cook uncovered for 2 minutes to warm the beans through.
  7. Melt in the cheese. Remove the pan from heat. Add the cheddar and Monterey Jack in two batches, stirring after each addition until fully melted and the sauce is creamy. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  8. Serve. Ladle into bowls. Garnish with sour cream, sliced scallions, pickled jalapeños, or extra shredded cheese as desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 490 | Protein: 30g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 830mg

Jesse Whitehawk
About the cook who shared this
Jesse Whitehawk
Week 8 of Jesse’s 30-year story · Tulsa, Oklahoma
Jesse is a thirty-nine-year-old welder, a Cherokee Nation citizen, and a married dad of three in Tulsa who cooks over open fire because that's how his grandpa Charlie did it and his grandpa's grandpa did it before him. His food draws from Cherokee tradition, Mexican heritage from his mother's side, and Oklahoma BBQ culture. He forages wild onions every spring and makes grape dumplings in the fall, and he considers both acts of cultural survival.

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