Cowboy Spaghetti

The woodstove is going now. I lit it for the first time this season on Tuesday evening when the temperature dropped to thirty-four after sunset, and it took the house in hand immediately — that kind of warmth that comes from a fire is different from what a furnace produces, more physical, more present. I sat in front of it for an hour reading nothing in particular and felt held by the season rather than resisting it.

The firewood is in. I stacked the last cords in October as I always do, and the woodshed is full — three years' worth, because I cut ahead. My father taught me to always be three years ahead with wood. It's a kind of faith in the future, he said. You're stacking wood for a self who doesn't exist yet, who will need it. I think about that every year when I'm stacking.

Made a classic pot roast this week — the kind with carrots and onions and potatoes in the Dutch oven, eight hours in the oven at a low temperature. Helen made this every October. It's the defining meal of early fall in this house: the smell of it slow-cooking all afternoon, the way the meat falls apart, the braising liquid reduced to something dark and glossy. I ate it over two days and it improved each time.

The presidential election is in a few weeks. I find I have a certain dread about it — not about who will win, but about what the aftermath looks like regardless. We seem to have arrived at a moment of difficulty. I've been around for a while. I've seen difficult moments before. I don't have a way to make this smaller than it is, so I'm just watching and waiting like everyone else and cooking things that smell like October.

The pot roast carried me through two days, the way those slow meals always do — but by Thursday I wanted something with the same weight and warmth and a little more fire to it, something that came together faster but still felt like it meant something. Cowboy Spaghetti is that kind of food: ground beef, bacon, a sauce with some backbone to it, the sort of thing you’d cook when it’s dark by five and the woodstove is the brightest thing in the room. It’s not subtle, and it doesn’t need to be.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

12 oz spaghetti
1 lb ground beef (80/20)
6 slices bacon, chopped
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, for topping
3 green onions, sliced, for garnish

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water, then drain and set aside.
Render the bacon. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, cook the chopped bacon until crisp, about 6–8 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving 1 tablespoon drippings in the pan.
Brown the beef. Add ground beef to the same skillet. Cook over medium-high heat, breaking it up as it browns, until no pink remains, about 7 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving a thin coating in the pan.
Build the base. Add diced onion to the beef and cook until softened, about 4 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly so it doesn’t burn.
Add the sauce. Stir in diced tomatoes, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, smoked paprika, chili powder, salt, and pepper. Bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly.
Combine. Add the drained spaghetti to the skillet and toss to coat, adding a splash of reserved pasta water if the sauce is too thick. Stir the cooked bacon back in.
Serve. Divide into bowls and top generously with shredded cheddar and sliced green onions. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cowboy Spaghetti — The Other Pot on the Stove When October Comes In Cold