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Texas Hash — The Dish That Feeds a Family That Always Shows Up

Graduation is Thursday. Three days. I should be excited and I am, but I'm also standing in my bedroom looking at the cap and gown hanging on the back of my door and feeling something that I think is grief. Not the big kind — not the kind Dad carries from Kandahar. The small kind. The kind that comes from knowing that a chapter is ending and you'll never be this version of yourself again. I have been Rachel Abernathy, Granby High School student, for four years. Before that I was Rachel Abernathy, military kid, moving target, perpetual new girl. After Thursday I'll be Rachel Abernathy, ODU freshman, communications major (probably), adult (technically). The transition isn't the scary part. I'm good at transitions — military kids are built for transitions. The scary part is that this time I chose the transition. Nobody's PCS orders sent me to college. I'm going because it's the next step, and for the first time in my life, the next step wasn't decided by the United States Navy. Freedom is terrifying. Who knew. Megan called to say she's coming for graduation. She's driving from Virginia Tech with Grant (the consultant — I still don't know what he consults about and at this point I'm afraid to ask). She said she's proud of me, which was either genuine or performed. With Megan it's hard to tell. Both, probably. She can be proud of me and condescending at the same time; it's a talent. Mom has been cooking all week in preparation for the graduation party — just family and a few neighbors, nothing huge, but Donna Abernathy doesn't do 'small' when it comes to food. She's made her seven-layer dip, a batch of her famous pimento cheese, deviled eggs (her recipe, not Keisha's grandma's, and I would never tell either of them that the other's is better because that's the kind of thing that starts wars), and she's prepping her pulled pork for the slow cooker. Donna Abernathy's pulled pork is a twelve-hour production: pork shoulder rubbed with brown sugar, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, and a little cayenne, slow-cooked until it falls apart, then mixed with her homemade barbecue sauce that's vinegar-based because she's from North Carolina originally and North Carolina barbecue is the only barbecue, don't argue with her. Dad bought a cake from the grocery store. Mom looked at it and said nothing, which means she hated it but loves him too much to say so. She'll serve it alongside her homemade banana pudding, which is the dessert that will actually matter, and the grocery store cake will sit on the table being politely ignored. I erased the whiteboard today. All the marks, gone. Eleven weeks of counting, and now there's nothing left to count. Thursday. Three days. I'm going to graduate from high school. I'm going to be the first Abernathy daughter to attend the same school for all four years. I'm going to wear a cap and gown and walk across a stage and my father is going to blink hard and my mother is going to cry and my sister is going to be proud and condescending and I'm going to be free. I don't know what comes next. But there's pulled pork in the slow cooker and banana pudding in the fridge and a family that shows up, every time, in every place. That's enough. It's always been enough.

Mom’s pulled pork gets all the glory at our family gatherings — and it deserves every bit of it — but when I think about the meals that actually hold a family together on an ordinary Wednesday, the ones that stretch to feed whoever shows up unannounced, I keep coming back to this skillet. Texas Hash is everything a graduation-week kitchen needs: one pan, simple ingredients, and the kind of deep, savory warmth that says you are home without making a production of it. If Donna Abernathy ever needed a Tuesday-night backup to her twelve-hour pork shoulder, this would be it.

Texas Hash

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs ground beef (80/20)
  • 1 large yellow onion, diced
  • 1 large green bell pepper, diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium beef broth
  • 3/4 cup uncooked long-grain white rice
  • 1 1/2 tsp chili powder
  • 1 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 1 tbsp olive oil

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a wooden spoon, until no longer pink, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pan.
  2. Soften the vegetables. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion and green bell pepper to the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 4–5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
  3. Season and combine. Stir in the chili powder, smoked paprika, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes (if using). Toast the spices with the beef and vegetables for about 30 seconds.
  4. Add the liquids and rice. Pour in the diced tomatoes (with juices), tomato sauce, and beef broth. Stir well to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the uncooked rice and stir to distribute evenly.
  5. Simmer covered. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover the skillet tightly with a lid and simmer for 20–25 minutes, until the rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid. Check at the 20-minute mark and add a splash of broth if the mixture looks dry.
  6. Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff gently with a fork, taste for seasoning, and serve straight from the skillet.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 370 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg

Rachel Abernathy
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 12 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.

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