Pot Roast with Spaghetti — The Italian-American Sunday

Linda called Friday night at seven-fifteen, just as Mama and I were sitting down to a quick dinner of leftovers and Cody had texted from school that he’d be late. Mama answered the phone and said “hello” and then her face changed and she sat down at the kitchen chair without taking her eyes off the wall. Linda was on the other end. Roy had proposed Saturday afternoon at a state park outside Tulsa — Keystone State Park, where they’d had their second date last June, walking the trail by the dam — and he’d done it on the bridge over the spillway with a ring he’d had reset from his grandmother’s into a setting he’d picked specifically for Linda. She’d said yes. They wanted a small wedding. October fifth at the Methodist church in Tulsa where Linda’s parents had been married in 1971 — the same sanctuary, the same brass cross above the altar.

She wanted me to be a bridesmaid, the only bridesmaid. She wanted Mama as the matron of honor. She wanted Cody to walk her down the aisle, because our grandfather had died in 1989 (he’d been Linda and Mama’s daddy) and there was no other man on her side of the family she trusted with the job. Cody had been at TCC when Linda called him. She’d called him on his ten-PM break standing outside the kitchen lab. He’d said yes immediately, then asked her what suit she wanted him in, then asked her if she needed help paying for anything because he’d been saving the small monthly stipend the unit had paid him for kitchen-line work and he had nine hundred and thirty dollars in a savings account that hadn’t been touched. Linda told me on the phone she’d cried in the parking lot of the school waiting for him to come back from break. Roy and his twin sons would be Roy’s side of the wedding. The twins would be groomsmen.

Sunday I made an Italian-American pot roast with spaghetti because the news needed a celebration meal that wasn’t fussy and was big enough to feed all the feelings — the kind of pot roast that simmers in tomato sauce all day and gets shredded over al dente pasta the way Italian-American grandmothers in New Jersey do it. The dish is a Sunday gravy with a roast in it. The roast cooks in the sauce; the sauce cooks down around the roast; you eat the meat and the sauce and the pasta as one unified Sunday meal that takes you all afternoon to make and forty-five minutes to eat.

A three-pound chuck roast, salted heavily on every surface, seared in olive oil in the heavy Dutch oven for four minutes a side until deeply browned, out to a plate. Two yellow onions in half-moons, a head of garlic minced (yes a whole head, this is Italian-American Sunday cooking, restraint is not the goal), in for ten minutes until soft. A six-ounce can of tomato paste added and toasted in the oil for two minutes until brick-red and fragrant — toasting the paste is the move that separates Italian-American Sunday gravy from the average. Two twenty-eight-ounce cans of San Marzano whole tomatoes crushed by hand into the pot. A cup of dry red wine. Two cups of beef broth. A small handful of fresh basil. A tablespoon of dried oregano. A bay leaf. Salt, pepper, a pinch of red-pepper flakes. The seared roast nestled back into the sauce.

Lid mostly on, three hours at three-twenty-five in the oven, with the lid checked once an hour and the meat flipped at the ninety-minute mark. The roast comes out fork-tender after three hours; you lift it out, shred it on a cutting board with two forks, and stir the shredded meat back into the sauce. The sauce reduces another fifteen minutes uncovered on the stovetop until it’s glossy and clings. Spaghetti cooked al dente in heavily salted water (the water should taste like the sea, that’s the rule), drained, tossed with a couple ladles of the sauce in the pan to coat. Plated with more sauce on top, more shredded meat, a generous shower of grated parmesan, a basil leaf or two for the photo if you’re into that.

Mama and Cody and I ate at the kitchen table with the radio on the country station and the kitchen still smelling like simmered tomato. Mama brought up the wedding twice during the meal — first asking if I’d need a bridesmaid dress and what the budget would be, then asking what color Linda was thinking. Cody asked Mama if she had a dress for the matron-of-honor role yet. She said she’d pick one out in May, plenty of time. Cody said, with his mouth half-full of spaghetti, “You’ll be the best-looking woman in the room. Don’t spend more than fifty.” Mama laughed. She laughed for the first time about the wedding, the kind of belly laugh she only does when she’s not bracing for anything, and I knew sitting at that table watching her laugh that this whole thing was going to be okay.

Toast the tomato paste in the oil — that’s the depth move. Here’s the Sunday gravy and the meat.

Pot Roast with Spaghetti

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs 30 min | Total Time: 3 hrs 50 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 boneless beef chuck roast (3 to 3-1/2 lbs)
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
• 1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
• 1 cup beef broth
• 1 teaspoon dried basil
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
• 1 bay leaf
• 16 oz spaghetti, cooked and drained
• Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Instructions

1. Sear the roast. In a large Dutch oven or heavy pot, heat oil over medium-high heat. Season the chuck roast on all sides with salt and pepper, then sear until deeply browned on all sides, about 4–5 minutes per side. Remove and set aside.
2. Sauté aromatics. In the same pot, reduce heat to medium and add the chopped onion. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
3. Build the sauce. Stir in the crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, beef broth, basil, oregano, sugar, and bay leaf. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
4. Braise the roast. Return the seared roast to the pot, nestling it into the sauce. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover tightly and simmer for 3 to 3-1/2 hours, turning the roast once halfway through, until the meat is fork-tender and falling apart.
5. Shred the beef. Remove the roast from the pot and discard the bay leaf. Using two forks, shred the beef into large pieces. Return the shredded beef to the sauce and stir to combine. Taste and adjust seasoning.
6. Serve. Spoon the beef and sauce generously over plates of hot cooked spaghetti. Top with grated Parmesan and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 680mg