Vegetarian Portobello Pot Roast

Second week of kindergarten for Liam. He comes home with papers in his backpack — a tracing of the letter A, a drawing of his house, a math sheet about counting to ten. He is not bringing home any notes home about emotional difficulty. I am grateful. He has a new teacher named Mrs. Patel whom he describes as "nice but strict" which is five-year-old for "structured." Good. He needs structure.

Nora is happy at preschool. She calls it "my school" and packs her own snack with my supervision — a cheese stick, a clementine, a cracker. She selects and arranges with the dignity of a woman who knows her menu.

I cooked a pot of chicken soup Sunday. Sean's soup. The gentle one. I stood at the stove and cried through the whole thing. I made it anyway. I had not made it since before he died. The kitchen filled with the smell. The smell undid me and held me at the same time. I froze three quarts. I drank a mug myself at the counter.

Maureen came Saturday. She did not push. She ate the shepherd's pie leftovers. She complimented me. She left early. She is learning how to show up without overstaying. I am learning how to accept her being here without needing to perform wellness.

I am tired. I am less tired than last week. The grief is a weight with a shape I am starting to recognize. I can pick it up. I can put it down for short intervals. It is always where I left it. I am learning.

The shepherd’s pie was already made when Maureen arrived, and the soup is in the freezer now in careful portions — both of them meals that Sean would have recognized, meals with weight and purpose. When I needed something for myself this week, something I could tend to slowly at the stove without it being freighted with memory, I turned to this portobello pot roast. It is not his recipe. It is mine, or it is becoming mine. The vegetables go in, the broth covers everything, the oven does the long quiet work — and for an hour I did not have to do anything except wait, which turned out to be exactly what I needed to practice.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 35 minutes | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

4 large portobello mushroom caps, stems removed
3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, quartered
3 medium carrots, cut into 2-inch chunks
2 parsnips, peeled and cut into 2-inch chunks
1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1/2 cup dry red wine (or 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar plus 1/4 cup extra broth)
2 cups vegetable broth
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1 bay leaf
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C).
Sear the mushrooms. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or oven-safe pot over medium-high heat. Place portobello caps gill-side down and sear without moving for 3–4 minutes until deeply browned. Flip and sear the other side for 2–3 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and tomato paste and stir for 1–2 minutes until the paste darkens slightly.
Deglaze. Pour in the red wine and stir, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes.
Add vegetables and broth. Add the potatoes, carrots, and parsnips. Pour in the vegetable broth and add thyme, rosemary, and the bay leaf. Season generously with salt and pepper and stir to combine.
Braise. Nestle the seared portobello caps on top of the vegetables, gill-side up. Cover the pot tightly and transfer to the preheated oven. Braise for 50–60 minutes, until the vegetables are completely tender when pierced with a fork.
Rest and serve. Remove from oven and discard the bay leaf. Let the pot roast rest, covered, for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon into shallow bowls and finish with a scatter of fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vegetarian Portobello Pot Roast — The Meal That Holds You Without Asking Anything Back