Portobello Ropa Vieja

Father's Day, the second complicated one. David called and spoke to Marvin and Marvin said, "David, my son," and David said, "Yes, Pop, your son," and there was a pause in which both men were fully present to each other across the phone line, and then Marvin said, "Are you a good boy?" which is what Marvin used to say to David when David was five, and David, who is thirty-six and a physician, said, "I try, Pop. I try," and his voice broke on the second "try" and I stood in the kitchen doorway and listened and did not interrupt because some conversations are not mine to enter.

I thought about fathers — Irving, Marvin, David. Three men, three versions of fatherhood. Irving who was steady and silent and worked himself to death. Marvin who was funny and present and is being erased by a disease that doesn't care about humor or presence. David who is earnest and devoted and terrified of becoming his father in the wrong way — not the good way, the Alzheimer's way. I see David's fear. He doesn't talk about it. He researches. He exercises. He eats fish. He does crossword puzzles. He is fighting his genetics with behavior modification, and I love him for it, and I am terrified for him, and I do not say either thing because some things a mother holds and does not share.

I made David's favorite — a brisket, sliced thin, with the pan gravy that comes from the braising liquid reduced to the consistency of silk. I made it and I packaged it and David drove from White Plains to pick it up from the porch, and he stood on the porch and I stood inside the screen door and we looked at each other and he said, "Thanks, Mom," and I said, "Happy Father's Day, sweetheart," and he took the brisket and he left and I watched his car pull away and thought: I am the luckiest unlucky woman alive. My husband is disappearing. My son is a good man. The brisket is perfect. The math does not balance. It never does.

I know the brisket is what the story is really about — the brisket is always what it’s really about — but I want to give you something you can make on an ordinary Tuesday, when the grief is quieter and you still need something warm and yielding and long-cooked to sit down to. Portobello Ropa Vieja is the dish I return to when I want that same slow-braised silk, that same sense of something having been tended carefully over time. It pulls apart the way a good brisket does. It takes the same patience. And patience, right now, is the thing I am learning to give myself.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large portobello mushroom caps, stems removed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 green bell pepper, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
1/2 cup low-sodium vegetable broth
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
Fresh cilantro or flat-leaf parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Sear the mushrooms. Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the portobello caps gill-side down and sear without moving them for 4–5 minutes until deeply browned. Flip and sear the other side for 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Build the sofrito. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Add the sliced onion and bell peppers. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and beginning to caramelize, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the tomato base. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes, letting it darken slightly. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices, the vegetable broth, cumin, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, pepper, and apple cider vinegar. Stir to combine.
Braise low and slow. Return the seared portobello caps to the skillet, nestling them into the sauce. Reduce heat to low, cover, and braise for 35–40 minutes, turning the mushrooms once halfway through, until they are completely tender and have absorbed the braising liquid.
Shred and reduce. Remove the mushrooms and use two forks to pull them into thick, irregular strips — they should shred easily. Return the shredded mushrooms to the pan. Increase heat to medium and cook uncovered for 5–8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens to a glossy, silk-like consistency.
Taste and serve. Adjust salt and vinegar to taste. Serve over white rice or with warm crusty bread, garnished with fresh cilantro or parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Portobello Ropa Vieja — The Brisket I Couldn’t Stop Making