Slow Cooker Tamale Pie — The Hotdish That Holds You Together

Paul needs help dressing now. Not just the buttons — everything. The arms won't lift properly. The right hand, which was the last reliable hand, is losing strength weekly. I dress him in the morning: underwear, pants, shirt, socks. I zip, I button, I tie. The process takes twenty minutes. It used to take him three. The dressing is the most intimate caregiving I do. More than the shower. More than the food-cutting. Because getting dressed is the first thing you learn as a child — the triumph of independence, the "I can do it myself" — and losing it is the last independence to go before you become fully dependent. Paul stands while I dress him. He stands still, arms slightly raised where he can manage, and I work around him and he looks at the wall and I look at the buttons and we don't talk because talking would make it harder. Afterward, he sits in his chair and I bring him coffee and the newspaper and his reading stand and his book and the day begins. The day begins the way it used to, with coffee and news and reading. But the beginning takes longer now, because the body takes longer, because everything takes longer when the body stops cooperating. I went to the Damiano Center on Thursday. Gerald was there. He looked at me and said, "You look tired, Linda." I said, "I am tired." He said, "Sit with me for a minute." So I sat. I sat at Gerald's table while another volunteer served the soup and I sat with a man who has nothing — no house, no family, no hands that work properly (he lost two fingers in Vietnam) — and he shared his table with me, which was the only thing he had to give, and it was everything. He said, "Who takes care of you, Linda?" I said, "I'm fine." He said, "That's not what I asked." I looked at him. Two fingers missing. A coat I gave him. A bowl of my soup. And he asked who takes care of me. I said, "My daughter. My church. My dog." He said, "And God?" I said, "God and I are negotiating." He laughed. I made a comfort dinner: tater tot hotdish. The most Minnesota thing. The least Swedish thing. The thing I make when I'm exhausted and scared and need food that requires no thought and delivers maximum comfort. Ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, green beans, tater tots. Assembled in ten minutes. Baked for forty. Eaten in silence. Paul ate it with a spoon — the weighted spoon, the adaptive one. He managed. He always manages. The tired is bone-deep. The kind of tired that sleep doesn't fix because the source of the tired doesn't sleep. The source of the tired is twenty-four hours a day, every day, the constant attention of a nurse whose patient is also her husband, whose hospital is also her home, whose shift never ends. But the hotdish was good. And Gerald asked who takes care of me. And the answer is imperfect but real: a daughter, a church, a dog, and a God I'm negotiating with. That'll do.

The hotdish that night wasn’t fancy, and it didn’t need to be — it just needed to exist, to be warm, and to ask nothing of me while it cooked. On days when dressing Paul takes everything I have before 8 a.m., I reach for recipes that assemble themselves: a little browning, a little layering, and then the oven or the slow cooker takes over so I can sit down. This slow cooker tamale pie is that kind of recipe — ground beef and good honest pantry staples, a cornbread lid that bakes right on top, comfort food that doesn’t require me to be anything other than present to start it.

Slow Cooker Tamale Pie

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 4 hrs | Total Time: 4 hrs 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 lb lean ground beef
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
• 1 can (10 oz) red enchilada sauce
• 1 1/2 tsp chili powder
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1 box (8.5 oz) corn muffin mix (such as Jiffy)
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1 cup shredded Mexican cheese blend, divided

Instructions

1. Brown the beef. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook ground beef, onion, and bell pepper until beef is no longer pink, about 6–8 minutes. Drain fat. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
2. Build the base. Transfer the beef mixture to the insert of a 6-quart slow cooker. Stir in black beans, corn, diced tomatoes with chiles, enchilada sauce, chili powder, cumin, salt, and pepper until combined.
3. First cook. Cover and cook on HIGH for 2 hours or LOW for 3 hours, until filling is hot and bubbling around the edges.
4. Make the cornbread topping. In a small bowl, stir together the corn muffin mix, egg, milk, and 1/2 cup of the shredded cheese until just combined. Do not overmix.
5. Top and finish. Spoon the cornbread batter evenly over the hot filling in the slow cooker. Sprinkle remaining 1/2 cup cheese over the batter. Place a double layer of paper towels under the lid to catch condensation, then replace lid. Cook on HIGH for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until the cornbread is set and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
6. Rest and serve. Remove lid and let stand 10 minutes before scooping. Serve directly from the slow cooker insert.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 490 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 1080mg