Midterms are this week and next. I'm surviving on Mom's cooking, caffeine, and the kind of determined panic that passes for motivation at nineteen.
The journalism piece is coming together. I interviewed three military wives: Mrs. Torres, who's been a Marine wife for fifteen years and makes tamales from her grandmother's recipe in every base kitchen she's occupied; Mrs. Park, a Korean-American Army wife who fuses Korean and American cooking because 'my kids need to eat both cultures'; and Mrs. Johnson, a Navy wife who has a spreadsheet — an actual Excel spreadsheet — tracking grocery costs per meal because she feeds five kids on an E-5 salary and every penny counts.
These women are extraordinary. Not in the way magazines mean when they call someone extraordinary — not exceptional, not unusual, but extra-ordinary. They do ordinary things to an extraordinary degree. They cook dinner. They stretch budgets. They adapt recipes to whatever kitchen the military puts them in. And they do it alone, for months at a time, because their husbands are on the other side of the world.
Mrs. Johnson told me something I can't stop thinking about: 'Nobody trains you for this. You marry a military man and they give you a spouse handbook and it tells you about TRICARE and the commissary but it doesn't tell you how to cook dinner when your husband has been deployed for six months and your five-year-old asks why Daddy isn't home and you have to answer that question AND make chicken nuggets at the same time.'
I wrote that down. I'm using it in the piece.
Professor Kim read my first draft and said, 'This is publishable.' Not 'this is a good assignment.' Publishable. As in: this could go in a newspaper. I don't know if she means it literally, but the word hit me like a bell. Publishable. Something I wrote could exist in the world beyond a classroom.
Mom made her corned beef and cabbage early — St. Patrick's Day isn't until the 17th but she was 'in the mood,' which is the only reason Donna Abernathy needs to cook anything. Corned beef brisket, slow-simmered with potatoes, carrots, onions, and cabbage wedges. The meat is salty and tender and the vegetables absorb the broth and the whole thing is rustic and warming and perfect with mustard on the side.
Dad ate it and said, 'My mother would've approved.' Which is the highest compliment Kevin Abernathy can give, because his mother — Grandma Abernathy, who I barely remember — was apparently a formidable cook, and Dad measures all food against her ghost.
Midterms continue. The journalism piece is due Monday. The corned beef is in the fridge. And I'm starting to think that Professor Kim might be right — that this thing I'm writing, this story about military wives and food, might be more than an assignment.
It might be the thing I do.
Or it might be midterm delirium. Hard to tell.
Mom’s corned beef is a once-a-year act of love, but the spirit behind it — the idea that a meal can anchor you when everything else feels chaotic — is something I keep coming back to. If you’re in the middle of your own long week and you need something warm and deeply satisfying without a lot of fuss, this One Pot Pasta Bolognese is where I’d send you. It’s the kind of meal Mrs. Johnson might actually approve of: real food, one pot, minimal cleanup, and enough richness to make five kids (or one exhausted journalism student) feel genuinely taken care of.
One Pot Pasta Bolognese
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground beef (80/20)
- 1/2 lb ground pork
- 1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 medium carrots, finely diced
- 2 stalks celery, finely diced
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/2 cup dry red wine
- 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
- 2 cups beef broth
- 2 tablespoons tomato paste
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 12 oz pappardelle or rigatoni pasta, uncooked
- 1/4 cup whole milk or heavy cream
- Fresh parsley and grated Parmesan, to serve
Instructions
- Brown the meat. Heat olive oil in a large, deep pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and pork. Cook, breaking up the meat with a wooden spoon, until browned and no pink remains, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat if needed.
- Sauté the vegetables. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion, carrots, and celery to the pot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Deglaze with wine. Pour in the red wine and stir, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let it simmer and reduce by half, about 2–3 minutes.
- Build the sauce. Stir in the crushed tomatoes, beef broth, tomato paste, oregano, thyme, and red pepper flakes. Season generously with salt and black pepper. Bring to a boil.
- Cook the pasta. Add the uncooked pasta directly to the pot. Stir to submerge and separate the noodles. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook until pasta is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid, about 12–15 minutes. Stir every few minutes to prevent sticking.
- Finish with cream. Remove from heat and stir in the milk or cream. Taste and adjust seasoning. The sauce will thicken slightly as it sits.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley and a generous handful of grated Parmesan. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 640mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 50 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.