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Southwest Beef & Rice Skillet — When the Kitchen Has to Be Enough

The world has become smaller this year. Mamma is gone. The first Sven is gone. The kitchen holds them both — Mamma in the bread pans on the shelf, the wooden spoon worn smooth where her hand held it for sixty years, the recipe cards in her tiny European hand; the first Sven in the worn spot on the floor under the dining room table where he slept for fourteen years, in the chewed corner of the rocking chair he could never resist, in the absence of barking when the doorbell rings. I am sixty-something and orphaned in the new way: the parental generation gone, the adult generation in charge. Sophie called. Her voice was thick. She said she was sorry about Mamma. She said she had been trying to type a text for an hour and could not. She called instead. We did not say much. We did not need to. Sophie has been to enough funerals at this point to know that the calls after are not for words but for the audible presence of a person on the other end of the line. The presence is the love. The presence is the bridge. The new Sven (Sven the Second) is six months old now. He chewed through my favorite shoe. He jumped on the kitchen counter. He is the worst-behaved dog Duluth has ever produced. I love him completely. He has the energy of a small storm. He is the right thing for the kitchen right now. The first Sven was a steady ocean. This Sven is a storm. Both are necessary in their seasons. The first weeks without Mamma. The phone does not ring on Tuesday at 10 AM. The bread pans are still on the shelf. The kitchen on Fifth Street is being emptied. Erik handles most of it. I cannot. I drive past the house and I look at it and I keep driving. I will go in eventually. Not yet. I cooked Pot roast with red wine and rosemary this week. Paul's recipe. Chuck roast browned hard in the dutch oven, then onion, garlic, carrots, red wine, beef stock, a sprig of rosemary, three hours at 325 in the oven, lid on. The meat is so tender it falls when the spoon touches it. Served over mashed potatoes with the pan gravy. The Damiano Center on Thursday. The pot was bigger than usual — fifty-five gallons. The crowd was bigger than usual. The need does not respect the calendar. There is no holiday from hunger. There is no week off from the soup. We make the soup. They come for the soup. The pattern is reliable. I thought about my own mother today. The full thought of her — Mamma at thirty in the kitchen on Fifth Street, Mamma at sixty in the kitchen on Fifth Street, Mamma at ninety in the kitchen on Fifth Street, Mamma in hospice in 2024 with her eyes closed and her hand in mine. The full arc of a person fits in a single thought, sometimes, if you let it. The thought is the inheritance. The thought is the visit. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. It is enough.

Paul’s pot roast carried me through the hardest stretch, but weeknights still had to happen — and weeknights called for something faster, something I could pull together without thinking too hard. This Southwest Beef & Rice Skillet became that dish: one pan, everything in together, done in under an hour. Sven the Second sat beneath the stove the whole time like he was supervising. The kitchen stayed warm. That was enough.

Southwest Beef & Rice Skillet

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground beef (80/20)
  • 1 cup long-grain white rice, uncooked
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
  • 1 cup frozen corn kernels
  • 1 small yellow onion, diced
  • 1 green bell pepper, diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 cups beef broth
  • 1 tsp chili powder
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/2 tsp salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 tsp black pepper
  • 1 cup shredded Monterey Jack or cheddar cheese
  • 2 tbsp olive oil
  • Fresh cilantro or sliced green onions, for serving (optional)

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large deep skillet or sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the ground beef and cook, breaking it up with a spoon, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat if needed.
  2. Soften the vegetables. Add the diced onion and bell pepper to the skillet. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Season and add liquids. Stir in the chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper. Add the uncooked rice and stir to coat. Pour in the beef broth and the entire can of diced tomatoes with their juices. Stir to combine.
  4. Simmer covered. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover the skillet tightly with a lid and simmer for 18–20 minutes, until the rice has absorbed the liquid and is cooked through. Check at 18 minutes — if the rice is still firm, cover and cook 3–5 minutes more.
  5. Add beans and corn. Uncover and stir in the black beans and frozen corn. Cook uncovered over medium heat for 2–3 minutes until everything is heated through.
  6. Top with cheese and serve. Scatter the shredded cheese over the top, cover for 1 minute to melt, then serve directly from the skillet. Garnish with cilantro or green onions if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 580 | Protein: 36g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 57g | Fiber: 8g | Sodium: 820mg

Linda Johansson
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 460 of Linda’s 30-year story · Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.

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