Hearty Taco Chili

Luis Jr. told me the deployment is real. Not a maybe anymore. His unit is deploying to the Middle East in September. Four months from now. Nine months total. He told me at Sunday dinner, between bites of birria, the way he tells me everything — casually, factually, as if informing me that my son is going to a war zone is the same as informing me that the car needs an oil change. I put my fork down. I looked at him. He looked at me. He said: "I'll be fine, Mom." And the "I'll be fine" is the Gutierrez fine — the same fine that Rosa said when she was dying, the same fine that Alejandro said when he was drinking — the fine that means: I am telling you what you need to hear so you can survive the telling.

I did not cry at the table. I cried later, in the bakery, on the floor, in the flour. Graciela was not there this time. I was alone. The floor and the flour and the dark kitchen and the sound of my own breathing, which was the sound of a mother processing a word — deploy — that is the most terrifying word in the English language when it is followed by the name of your child.

Luis is quiet. Quieter than usual. He processes in the garage. I process on the floor. We are a family of processing rooms and this is the biggest processing we have ever done, bigger than Rosa, bigger than Alejandro, because Rosa and Alejandro were done — their endings were final, their grief had a floor. This has no floor. This is a deployment to a war zone and the floor is the possibility of the worst thing and the worst thing is unthinkable and I think it anyway because mothers think the unthinkable — it is our job, our curse, our particular form of love.

I made birria that Sunday — the birria that was interrupted by the word deploy. The birria that sat on the table while the word sat between us. The birria that Luis Jr. ate three bowls of while I couldn't eat because my stomach had closed and the closing was the body's response to the word and the body doesn't lie. I put the leftover birria in the refrigerator and I will eat it tomorrow and the birria will taste like September and fear and the particular flavor of a mother's love when it is mixed with a word she cannot swallow.

The birria is still in the refrigerator. I have not been able to finish it — every bowl tastes like the word deploy and I put my spoon down before I get to the bottom. But the body has to eat, and the body wants something in the same family: deep and spiced and slow, something that simmered while you weren’t watching it. This taco chili is what I made the following Tuesday. It is not birria. But it is a pot that will let you finish it, and right now that matters.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs ground beef (80/20)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 packet (1 oz) taco seasoning
1 packet (1 oz) ranch seasoning mix
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles (such as Rotel), undrained
1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
1 cup beef broth
Salt and black pepper to taste
Optional toppings: shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream, sliced green onions, fresh cilantro, tortilla chips

Instructions

Brown the beef. In a large heavy pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef, breaking it apart with a spoon, until no pink remains, about 8–10 minutes. Drain off excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pot.
Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Add the seasonings. Sprinkle the taco seasoning and ranch seasoning over the beef and onion mixture. Stir well to coat evenly and cook for 1 minute so the spices bloom.
Build the chili. Add the black beans, pinto beans, kidney beans, corn, diced tomatoes, diced tomatoes with green chiles, tomato sauce, and beef broth. Stir everything together until well combined.
Simmer low and slow. Bring the chili to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chili thickens and the flavors deepen. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top as desired with shredded cheddar, sour cream, green onions, cilantro, or crushed tortilla chips. Leftovers keep well refrigerated for 4–5 days and freeze beautifully.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hearty Taco Chili — The Pot I Keep Coming Back To When I Can’t Eat the Real Thing