Slow Cooker Posole

Hurricane Irma has been threatening the Southeast for a week, and Charleston is in preparation mode — the particular anxiety of a coastal city that has been hit before and knows what the ocean is capable of when it decides to come ashore. We did not evacuate — the track shifted west toward Florida — but the preparation itself is exhausting: boarding windows, filling bathtubs, moving library materials to upper shelves at all six branches, which I coordinated from the administrative office with the frantic energy of a woman who is responsible for six buildings full of irreplaceable books.

I called Mama on Wednesday to make sure she was prepared. She said, "Naomi, I have survived sixteen hurricanes. I don't need to prepare. I need to pray." This is the most Carolyn Simmons response to a natural disaster possible: faith over logistics, prayer over plywood. I told her to board the windows anyway. She said, "Your father would have said the same thing." I said, "That's because Daddy was a man of faith AND common sense." She laughed, and the laughing was good.

Irma passed us with minimal damage — heavy rain, some flooding on the Battery, a few downed trees. The library system reopened Thursday. The Beaufort parsonage was untouched. Joy, according to Mama, slept through the entire storm, which is either impressive or concerning and which I choose to interpret as impressive because Joy has always had the gift of sleeping through things the rest of us lie awake worrying about.

James submitted his early decision application to the College of Charleston on Friday. The submission was anticlimactic — a click of a button — but the significance was enormous. My son has put his future into the hands of an admissions committee, and the future he has chosen is the same city where I chose mine. I stood behind him while he clicked and put my hand on his shoulder and said nothing, because the moment belonged to him, and my silence was the gift.

I made a hurricane preparation meal: rice and beans, the universal disaster food, the meal that keeps when the power goes out and that feeds a crowd when neighbors need feeding. I made a pot large enough for eight and brought half of it to our neighbor Mrs. Chen, who is seventy-nine and lives alone, because that is what Mama taught me: when the storm comes, you cook for your people and your people include everyone within walking distance.

The rice and beans I carried to Mrs. Chen’s door that Thursday are the kind of meal that does not need a recipe so much as an instinct — the instinct Mama built into me before I even knew she was teaching. But posole is the version of that same impulse I return to when I have a little more time and want the pot to do the ceremonial work: the slow heat, the chiles blooming in broth, the smell filling the house while the storm or the waiting or the worry does what it does outside. It is the meal that says you are fed, you are accounted for, you are not facing this alone. I make a full slow cooker’s worth every time, because there is always a Mrs. Chen, and there is always someone within walking distance who needs to know someone is thinking of them.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 7 hours | Total Time: 7 hours 20 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 1/2 lbs boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut into 2-inch chunks
2 cans (15 oz each) white hominy, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 large white onion, roughly chopped, plus extra thinly sliced for serving
5 cloves garlic, minced
3 dried ancho chiles, stems and seeds removed
2 dried guajillo chiles, stems and seeds removed
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 1/2 tsp dried Mexican oregano (or regular oregano)
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
Juice of 1 lime

For serving:

2 cups shredded green cabbage
6 radishes, thinly sliced
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves
2 limes, cut into wedges
Dried oregano, for sprinkling
Warm corn tortillas or crusty bread

Instructions

Toast the dried chiles. Heat a dry skillet over medium heat. Add the ancho and guajillo chiles and press flat with a spatula for 20–30 seconds per side until fragrant and slightly darkened (do not burn them). Transfer to a bowl, cover with 1 1/2 cups of boiling water, and soak for 15 minutes until softened.
Blend the chile sauce. Drain the soaked chiles, reserving the soaking liquid. Combine the chiles, reserved soaking liquid, fire-roasted tomatoes, half the chopped onion, garlic, cumin, smoked paprika, and oregano in a blender. Blend until completely smooth. Season with 1/2 tsp salt.
Sear the pork. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Season pork chunks generously with salt and pepper. Sear in batches, 2–3 minutes per side, until browned on all surfaces. Do not crowd the pan. Transfer seared pork to the slow cooker.
Build the slow cooker. Add the remaining chopped onion, drained hominy, and chicken broth to the slow cooker. Pour the blended chile sauce over everything and stir gently to combine.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 7–8 hours or HIGH for 4–5 hours, until the pork is completely tender and falls apart easily when pressed with a spoon.
Shred the pork. Use two forks or tongs to shred the pork directly in the slow cooker, pulling it into chunky pieces. Stir in the lime juice. Taste and adjust salt. If the broth seems thick, add a splash of chicken broth or water to reach your preferred consistency.
Serve with all the toppings. Ladle into deep bowls. Top each serving with shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, fresh cilantro, and a pinch of dried oregano. Squeeze a lime wedge over the top. Serve immediately with warm tortillas or crusty bread for the broth.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow Cooker Posole — The Pot You Make When the Storm Comes and the Neighbors Need Feeding