Week one of quarantine. Or lockdown. Or whatever this is — the thing where the world stops and the kitchen doesn't.
Caleb and I have not left the apartment in seven days. SEVEN DAYS. The longest I've been in one place without leaving since... I can't remember. Even during deployment, I walked the base loop every morning. Now the loop is closed. The playground is closed. Everything is closed except the commissary, which is open with restrictions: masks, six-foot distance, limited capacity.
Ryan goes to base and comes home smelling like hand sanitizer. He changes clothes in the garage before coming inside. He showers before touching Caleb. The precautions feel extreme and insufficient simultaneously.
I'm cooking three meals a day and writing a blog post every single day and it's the most I've ever worked in my life. The 'Quarantine Kitchen' series has become my full-time job. Each post: a recipe, a story, a meal plan. Budget-focused because military families can't afford to order delivery every night (neither can civilian families, but military families NEVER could, so we're ahead of the curve).
The blog hit half a million total views this week. HALF A MILLION. The column at MilSpouseLife doubled its rate — $100 per post now, because the traffic is up and they want more content. I'm writing for them twice a week instead of once.
People are messaging me: 'I've never cooked before. Where do I start?' And I'm answering them the way Mom answered me: 'Start with the basics. Rice. Pasta. Soup. Learn to make one meal from scratch and repeat it until it's yours. Then learn another.'
The emails from military wives are different: 'My husband just deployed. NOW. During a pandemic. And I'm alone with two kids and I don't know how to do this.' And I'm answering them the way Jen answered me: 'You're going to be fine. Not right away. But eventually. Put the chicken in the pot. Call me if you need to talk.'
Put the chicken in the pot. The universal deployment instruction.
Mom calls every night. Her voice is steady but I can hear the underneath — the fear about Dad, the isolation, the strangeness of being locked in a house she's lived in for seven years but which now feels like a bunker.
'What did you cook tonight?' she asks. The same question. Every night. For three years.
'Your chili. The one with cocoa powder.'
'Good. That's good for a pandemic.'
'Everything you cook is good for a pandemic, Mom. That's the whole point.'
She laughed. First laugh I've heard from her in a week. Laughter, during a pandemic, from a woman who's scared for her husband's life and can't see her grandson.
The chili is warm. The blog is live. The world is closed.
But dinner is at 1800. And Donna's chili has cocoa powder. And some things survive everything.
Everything.
Mom’s chili — the one with the cocoa powder — is what I made that night, and what I’ve made every time the world has felt too heavy to carry. It’s the recipe she walked me through on the phone during Ryan’s first deployment, the one I’ve been making for three years, and the one I reached for when seven days of closed doors and hand sanitizer and fear needed to become dinner at 1800. The microwave version is the one I lean on when I’m already exhausted from writing three posts and answering a hundred emails from women who are scared and alone — it’s fast, it’s real, and it tastes exactly like the voice on the other end of the phone saying you’re going to be fine. Make this one.
Microwave Classic Chili
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb lean ground beef
- 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
- 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon chili powder
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
Instructions
- Brown the beef. Place ground beef and diced onion in a large microwave-safe bowl or 2-quart casserole dish. Microwave on HIGH for 4–5 minutes, breaking up the meat halfway through, until no pink remains. Carefully drain excess fat.
- Add aromatics. Stir in the minced garlic, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, cocoa powder, salt, black pepper, and cayenne (if using). Mix until the beef is evenly coated in the spices.
- Add the tomatoes and sauce. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices and the tomato sauce. Stir to combine.
- Add the beans. Fold in the drained kidney beans. Stir everything together until well mixed.
- Microwave until hot. Cover the dish loosely with a microwave-safe lid or plastic wrap vented at one corner. Microwave on HIGH for 10–12 minutes, stirring once at the halfway point, until the chili is bubbling and the flavors have melded.
- Rest and serve. Let the chili rest uncovered for 2 minutes before serving. Ladle into bowls and top with shredded cheese, sour cream, or sliced green onions as desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 680mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 208 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.