The virus has a name now. COVID-19. It is no longer a rumor on the CB — it is on every screen, every newscast, every conversation. The truck stops are buzzing with it, the particular buzz of people who live on the road and are trying to figure out what a pandemic means for people who live on the road. We touch gas pumps and loading docks and bills of lading and the hands of every clerk and dispatcher and dock worker between here and wherever the freight goes. We are vectors. We are also essential. The virus does not change the freight schedule. The freight schedule does not change for anything.
I called Gayle. She is seventy-four and alone and the news is saying the elderly are most at risk, and the word 'elderly' applied to my mother feels like a slap, because Gayle is not elderly, Gayle is Gayle — stubborn, upright, making her own coffee and watching Wheel of Fortune and eating the dinners I bring. But seventy-four is seventy-four, and the number is a fact, and facts do not bend for feelings.
The schools are starting to talk about closing. The possibility of it — four kids home, no school, indefinitely — is a thing I cannot think about for more than thirty seconds before the logistics overwhelm me. Who watches them when I am driving? Dave is at the truck stop. Gayle cannot be exposed. The patchwork that holds our childcare together is made of people, and the virus is coming for the people, and the patchwork is at risk.
I made a double batch of tater tot casserole and froze half. I made a double batch of chili and froze half. I made a double batch of chicken noodle soup and froze half. I am filling the freezer the way you fill sandbags before a flood — not because the flood is here but because the river is rising, and you can see it, and the bags are cheap and the work is easy and the alternative is watching the water come and having nothing between it and your house. The freezer is my sandbags. The meals are my preparation. I prepare. It is what I do.
The chili was already in the freezer, portioned out in quart bags the way I always do when I’m bracing for something I can’t fully see yet. But this Chili Cornbread Casserole is what I wish I’d thought of first — everything the chili was, plus the golden, sturdy comfort of cornbread baked right on top, all in one dish that holds in the freezer just as well as it holds in the heart. It’s the kind of meal that says we are going to be okay without saying a word, which is exactly what my family needed me to say.
Chili Cornbread Casserole
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground beef (or ground turkey)
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 1 green bell pepper, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
- 2 tablespoons chili powder
- 1 teaspoon cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1 box (8.5 oz) cornbread mix (such as Jiffy)
- 1 egg
- 1/3 cup milk
- 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese, divided
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
- Brown the meat. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook ground beef, onion, and bell pepper until meat is no longer pink, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
- Build the chili. Stir in kidney beans, black beans, diced tomatoes, tomato sauce, chili powder, cumin, and smoked paprika. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer over medium heat for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened.
- Layer the base. Pour the chili mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread evenly. Sprinkle 1/2 cup of the shredded cheddar over the top.
- Mix the cornbread topping. In a medium bowl, stir together the cornbread mix, egg, and milk until just combined — do not overmix. Fold in the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar.
- Top and bake. Spoon the cornbread batter over the chili layer and gently spread to the edges. Bake uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the cornbread is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
- Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest 5 minutes before slicing. Serve with sour cream, sliced green onions, or hot sauce if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 820mg