Yesterday morning I found myself thanking not God, or the Goddess, or even my lucky stars, but a dish called Picadillo. I found this recipe while flipping through my Betty Crocker slow cooker cookbook in search of one of those amazing and simple recipes for which I already had most of the ingredients in my kitchen. This one hit the jackpot.
- 2 lbs. ground beef
- 1 large onion, chopped (1 cup)
- 1 cup raisins
- 2 tsps. chili powder
- 1 tsp. salt
- 3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
- 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
- 1/2 tsp. pepper
- 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- 2 medium apples, peeled and chopped
- 2 cans (10 ounces each) diced tomatoes and green chilies, undrained
- 1/2 cup slivered almonds, toasted
1. Cook beef and onion in 12-inch skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until beef is brown; drain.
2. Mix beef mixture and remaining ingredients except almonds in 3.5 to 6-quart slow cooker.
3. Cover and cook on low heat setting 3 to 4 hours or until most of the liquid is absorbed. Stir in almonds.
FIRST LIFE: This dish was truly surprising, and might I suggest, even inspired. In the past I’ve been disappointed by ground beef dishes in the crock pot. The beef often ends up mushy and over-cooked. This was not the case here I think because the cook time is so short. Also, I’ve been burned by apples in the past. You have to choose the right kind or the food ends up way too sweet. I randomly picked out Braeburns for this, and they worked well.
I departed from the recipe a touch. As per my usual I forgot an ingredient when I went to the store, in this case 1 can of the tomatoes and green chilies, and added them an hour before it was finished. I also did not use the almonds. I’m not sorry about this exclusion.
This was the first crock pot meal I made after coming back from Colorado after 4 weeks of back-and-forth travels there from Minneapolis; 6 plane flights soloing my infant and my toddler. There was a lot riding on this meal for me. The main emotional investment here was proving to myself, my kids, my husband, my mother’s ghost, and whoever else was watching that I was back on my feet again. Yes, I can grade, catch up on e-mails, nurse my son, bathe my daughter, change diapers, do the laundry, solve world hunger, dance a jig, and make dinner in a day. The ground beef and apples, considering my failings in the past, were both risky ingredients, but considering my need for simplicity — easy prep and a short cook time — this dish was fated to bear the burden of my mental and emotional baggage.
It fulfilled these high expectations. I served it over brown rice, and per usual, awaited the three signs of success: 1) My husband’s lifted eyebrows followed by a five minute race against the memory of his brothers eating his food before he could. 2) My daughter’s solo performance art installation in which food is happily spread across her face, hands, hair, and (if I’m really lucky) shoved in her diaper ending in a standing ovation-inducing face-plant into the plate to lick up the remains. 3) My inability to apologize for anything related to the meal. Success! What was surprising here was the perfect balance of spicy and sweet, giving it a comforting Mexican food flavor with a surprising spritzer of homemade apple pie. Hu. Zzah.
SECOND LIFE: I was so excited about the success of the meal and its huge amount of leftovers (it makes 12 servings) I immediately followed the “Tips” on the recipe, Ziplocked the rest of it, and put it in the freezer in order to surprise my dad with it for his upcoming visit. It did not make it a week before I was pulling it out again for tacos (I’ll have to make it again for Dad). Its second incarnation assembled by my husband was equally, if not more satisfying than the first.
I am a control freak and a perfectionist. Nowhere is this statement more true than in my cooking. I have to follow recipes to the letter and be able to be in charge of an entire meal from start to finish. This tendency is intimately linked and enabled by the ever-present chaos that seeps into the cracks and crevices of my life like the damn ants that magically make their way into my kitchen and bathroom no matter how often I vacuum up the detritus that attracts them. Food is something I can exercise complete mastery and control over which is an incredibly comforting thought especially when my toddler is employing the Noodle Defense (going completely limp to prevent easy retrieval) as I’m trying to pick her up and prevent her from running into oncoming traffic. My husband, on the other hand, is thankfully much more laid back in his food preparation. He believes in ease and simplicity as well, but does not have an aneurysm if he’s missing the second can of diced tomatoes and green chilies. As a result, there are certain meals my husband cooks and certain meals I cook. Tacos are my husband’s meal.
However, thanks to Picadillo, this round of tacos was our meal. He thawed and warmed up the leftover, baked the taco shells, chopped the tomatoes, and heated up the Mexican rice, and black beans. I provided Seward co-op guacamole. Again, it was delicious. The “aged” version was a bit sweeter than the first round as the apples and raisins had become a much stronger presence. Tacos, it turns out, were thus the perfect option as the fresh tomatoes, cheese, salsa, beans, rice, and guacamole tamed the sweetness, and created a nice balance of spicy sweetness and saltiness. Picadillo’s second life in the tacos served to reaffirm and reinforce not only my sense of balance (I didn’t have to cook this meal!), but also embodied a much needed balance in my house.
THIRD LIFE: Picadillo’s third incarnation was potentially its prettiest and, by far, the easiest version. 
Lunch presents special challenges in my house. How can I get a nutritious, balanced meal on the table for me and my toddler before everyone succumbs to naptime grouch-outs? Here’s where I looked up to the ceiling of my one-butt kitchen and thanked Picadillo. I could sense the imminent meltdown as my son was practicing his talking/fussing in the bouncy chair and my toddler was in that oh-so-fun space of cracked-out tiredness demonstrated by alternating bursts of head-spinning physical feats accompanied by insane cackling and moments of pause accompanied by face-rubbing and floor-rolling. I whipped out Picadillo and heated it up in the microwave as well as the black bean tortilla chips, lettuce, and the rest of the tomato from the night before, chopped and crumbled them all up, and threw them on her plate. De-freaking-licious! Yet again, Picadillo saved the balance of the day, quieting and comforting an over-tired toddler and her hungry, midday slumped-out mom.
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