Nebraska’s Stuffed Beef Sandwiches

One week to Busan. The body is doing the thing bodies do before long-awaited trips — it is holding a low hum in the chest, a slight acceleration of the pulse, a refusal to sleep deeply. I am tired. I am pretending not to be tired. I will sleep for the first two days in Busan.

James and I have been rehearsing Korean together. He is better at it than me, because he has the ear. He speaks Mandarin fluently and his tone is calibrated in a way my Americanized-suburban ear is not. We spent an hour on Sunday practicing how to greet Jisoo. He wants to get the bow right. He wants to address her appropriately. I told him — you will call her umma if you want to, or you will call her Jisoo-seonsaengnim if you want to be formal, or you will call her nothing and smile. He said, "I will call her umma." I said, "She will love that." He said, "I know." I married a man who thinks about these things. I have not married him yet. I am going to marry him in four months.

Karen is stable. She and David are going to spend two weekends while I am gone at a little cabin on Bainbridge Island that they have rented. It will be quiet and they will do nothing and I think it will be good for David especially to be somewhere other than the house for a bit. Rosa is going with them for three days. David says Rosa is "part of the family now." I met Rosa's husband Juan on Sunday — he dropped her off and came in for coffee while I was there. He is kind and warm and we spoke Spanish-adjacent together (my Spanish is high school leftover; his English is much better than my Spanish). I am glad Rosa has Juan. I am glad Karen has Rosa.

Kevin called on Sunday. He said, "Take pictures of Jisoo's kitchen. I want to see it." I said, "I will." He said, "And if she cooks something incredible, describe it in a text. I will imagine it. I want to know what you're eating." I said, "I will send you the menu every day." He laughed. He said, "I love you, Steph. Safe trip." I said, "I love you. See you when I'm back."

Dr. Yoon: one last session before I leave. She said, "Anything you want to say before the trip?" I said, "I am scared." She said, "Of what?" I said, "Of becoming someone Karen does not recognize." She said, "Stephanie. You have been that person for years. Karen recognizes you. She sees you becoming her. She is proud of it. You are not betraying her by going to Busan." I cried a little. She said, "Come back with stories." I said, "I will."

I made the last doenjang jjigae before the trip on Saturday. I have been making it every week for six years. I have never made one the same week as a major trip before. This one felt ceremonial. I ate it slowly. I thought about all the doenjang jjigae I will eat in Busan. I thought about how my kitchen here will be empty for two weeks and how Jisoo's kitchen will be full. I thought about how the doenjang in my cupboard is the same brand Jisoo uses, and how it is one of the small threads that has been binding us all year. I ate the whole bowl. I thought: I will make this again in two weeks, and it will be different.

The recipe this week is doenjang jjigae — my farewell to this kitchen before Busan. Simple, plain, the metronome. Anchovy stock. Doenjang. Potato. Zucchini. Tofu. Green onion. Eat. Go. Come back changed. Cook it again.

The doenjang jjigae was the ceremony, but I’ve been thinking all week about the other thing I made Saturday — the late-afternoon, low-stakes, feed-yourself-before-you-fall-apart meal that happens when you’re one week out from something big and your body just needs something warm and filling with no symbolism attached. These stuffed beef sandwiches are that. They are not Korean. They are not ceremonial. They are just good, and they kept me company while I packed, and I ate them standing at the counter, and that was exactly right.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs ground beef (80/20)
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup beef broth
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp yellow mustard
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp celery salt
Salt and black pepper to taste
6 soft hoagie rolls or sturdy dinner rolls
4 oz sharp cheddar cheese, thinly sliced
1 tbsp unsalted butter, for toasting rolls
Dill pickles and yellow mustard, for serving

Instructions

Brown the beef. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a wooden spoon, until no pink remains, about 8–10 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pan.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add diced onion to the skillet and cook until softened and translucent, about 4–5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly.
Season and simmer. Stir in beef broth, Worcestershire sauce, yellow mustard, smoked paprika, and celery salt. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer uncovered over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the liquid reduces and the mixture is moist but not soupy, about 10–12 minutes.
Toast the rolls. While the filling simmers, split rolls and spread cut sides lightly with butter. Toast cut-side down in a separate skillet over medium heat until golden, about 2 minutes. Watch closely.
Stuff and melt. Pile the beef mixture generously onto the bottom half of each toasted roll. Lay a slice or two of cheddar over the hot filling and let it melt for 1–2 minutes. You can place under the broiler for 60 seconds if you want a more aggressive melt.
Serve. Cap with the top half of the roll. Serve immediately with dill pickles and extra mustard on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Nebraska’s Stuffed Beef Sandwiches — One Last Meal from This Kitchen Before the World Gets Big Again