I drove to my mother's house in Orem on Wednesday because I do that on Wednesdays, and Wednesday is a day I have organized around my mother. The week was a winter 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.
Brandon golfed Saturday morning, attended his executive secretary meeting Sunday morning, and did the dishes Wednesday night, which is the rhythm of our life now. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.
The recipe of the week was enchilada casserole, 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. Sunday prep is twenty-eight bags. I time myself. The accountant never leaves. 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.
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, 16, 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.
I will close the laptop in a moment. I will go to bed. I will get up tomorrow. The freezer will be there. The photograph will be there. The work will be there. So will I.
Enchilada casserole is in my permanent rotation for a reason, but it was the Italian beef that carried the week before it — a slow, low-effort build that goes straight into bags and comes out of the freezer ready to feed whoever shows up at the table. When Brandon is chopping onions and the conversation is good and the Sunday afternoon is being spent the right way, this is the kind of recipe that makes that afternoon worth something the following Wednesday. It requires almost nothing from you at serving time, which is exactly what Wednesday requires.
Italian Beef Hoagies
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 8 hours (slow cooker) | Total Time: 8 hours 15 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 3 to 4 lbs beef chuck roast
- 1 packet (1 oz) Italian dressing seasoning mix
- 1 packet (1 oz) au jus gravy mix
- 1 cup beef broth
- 1/2 cup water
- 1 jar (16 oz) pepperoncini peppers, with liquid
- 1 medium onion, sliced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 8 hoagie rolls, split
- 8 slices provolone cheese
- 2 tablespoons butter, softened (for rolls, optional)
Instructions
- Prep the slow cooker. Place the sliced onion and minced garlic in the bottom of a 6-quart slow cooker. Lay the beef chuck roast on top.
- Add seasonings and liquid. Sprinkle the Italian dressing mix and au jus mix evenly over the roast. Pour in the beef broth, water, and the full jar of pepperoncini peppers along with their liquid.
- Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 8 hours, or on HIGH for 4 to 5 hours, until the beef is fall-apart tender.
- Shred the beef. Remove the roast and shred with two forks, discarding any large pieces of fat. Return the shredded beef to the slow cooker and stir to combine with the juices.
- Toast the rolls. If desired, spread butter on the cut sides of the hoagie rolls and toast under the broiler for 1 to 2 minutes until lightly golden.
- Assemble and melt. Pile the shredded beef onto each roll. Lay a slice of provolone over the top and place under the broiler for 30 to 60 seconds until the cheese is melted and bubbling.
- Serve with au jus. Ladle the remaining slow cooker juices into small bowls for dipping alongside each sandwich.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 980mg