Let Me Tell You About My Go-To Ground Beef Stew

I swear, every time the weather takes a nosedive, or my grocery budget looks a bit sad, I end up making this chunky ground beef stew. You know those dinners you kind of fall back on–sometimes out of love (but, hey, sometimes it’s just because you forgot to defrost the chicken)? Well, this is it for me. I first threw this together in my uni flat back in Glasgow, with half the ingredients swapped for whatever was left in my flatmate’s fridge. She still claims it was the best ‘soup-thing’ she’s ever had, though honestly, I think she just loved anything served with bread. Anyway, this stew sort of grew with me. Now, it’s different every time but always tastes like something you want to eat curled up on the sofa, preferably with those thick socks your Auntie knitted you (mine are neon orange, sadly).

Why You’ll Love This Stew (Or At Least, Why I Do!)

I make this when the end-of-week fridge clearout needs a hero; basically, it saves sad veggies from the bin. My family goes mad for it because it’s thick enough to mop up with a hunk of bread, plus everyone’s happy because you can sneak in extra carrots or skip the peas if that one certain person insists they taste like socks (my theory? They’ve never had a decent pea). The one thing that used to bug me was the Beef sticking to the bottom—until I learned, a smidge more oil does wonders. I get requests for this on chilly nights (or lazy Sunday afternoons, which to me are made for stews and telly).

Stuff You’ll Need (And What I Swap In)

500g ground Beef (or mince, if you say it like we do here; I’ve used pork mince in a pinch—still tasty)
1 onion, chopped (red, white, whatever’s in the cupboard)
2-3 medium carrots, diced (though I’ll admit, sometimes I just throw in a handful of frozen mixed veg to save effort)
2 potatoes, cubed (waxy, floury, leftover roasties—it all works, promise)
2 celery stalks, chopped (occasionally skipped; grandma never bothered, and her stew was banging)
3 cloves garlic, minced (or a teaspoon of the stuff from a jar; nobody’s judging)
1 can chopped tomatoes (Grandmother swore by Brand X, but whatever cheap tin they have will do!)
750ml beef stock (cube, powder, or made proper—sometimes I top up with water, honestly)
1 tablespoon tomato paste (sometimes skipped if I can’t find the tube buried in the fridge)
1 teaspoon dried thyme (sage is nice too but it’s not essential)
Salt and pepper, to taste (have a taste before piling it all in—learned that, eh)
A handful of frozen peas (optional; my youngest says they’re the best part)
Dash of Worcestershire sauce (not vital, it just adds a bit of magic)

How I Actually Throw This Together

Heat a big ol’ pot (I mean, a Dutch oven if you’re fancy; regular saucepan is fine) over medium heat. Add a splash of oil—olive, vegetable, whatever. Just not motor oil, right?
Tumble in your ground beef, break it up, and let it brown. Don’t crowd the pot or it’ll steam instead of brown. And honestly, give it time. This is when I usually make tea or munch a quick biscuit.
Add chopped onions, carrots, and celery. Stir it about, let it all soften—maybe 5 minutes. Don’t panic if some bits go a bit golden at the edges. That’s just flavor.
Garlic time! Chuck that in once your veg is partway soft. Give it 30 seconds. If you like things garlicky, now’s your moment. If not, no dramas.
Toss in potatoes, tomatoes, and tomato paste (if using). Give it all a jumble so the bits get friendly.
Pour in the stock and bring to a simmer. Add your thyme and a good whack of pepper. If you fancy, a splash of Worcestershire sauce now is a real treat. Put a lid on it, turn it down to a gentle simmer.
Let it go for about 30–40 minutes, giving an occasional stir. (This is where I sneak a taste, though watch your tongue—boiling stew is like molten lava from the depths.)
Chuck in the peas about 5 minutes before you’re ready to eat. Taste for salt and pepper. Adjust, unless you like to live dangerously.
It’ll thicken up as it stands. And if it looks too thin? Just leave the lid off for the last few minutes or mash a couple of potato cubes. Works every time.

Some Notes I Learned The Hard Way

If you let the onions burn, start over. Seriously, nothing hides that flavor.
Resist the urge to add too much liquid early on; you can top it up later. I’ve made beef broth soup by accident more than once.
This is one of those rare things that tastes even better the next day. I know everyone says that, but I genuinely think it’s true here.
Don’t stress about perfect chopping. Rustic means bigger chunks… and fewer tears.

Variations I’ve Tried (Or Survived)

Swapped beef for turkey mince once. Actually, not terrible—just milder.
I threw in a tin of chickpeas when I was light on beef; not classic, but hearty. It confused my mum but she did have seconds.
Added a couple of handfuls of kale. Kids weren’t convinced. Husband loved it. Go figure.
Once doused it all with hot sauce. On second thought, maybe just stick to a dash. My lips tingled all evening.

What You Might Need (And My Cheapskate Tricks)

Decent heavy-bottomed pot (a Dutch oven if you’re posh. I used an old saucepan with a wobbly handle for years—just don’t turn up the heat too high and you’re grand.)
Sharp knife and wooden spoon. Or a butter knife if you’re really desperate. Done it.
Ladle for serving, but hey, I’ve used a big mug when the dishes pile up.

Storing It (Unless You’ve Got Teenage Boys Like Me)

Properly cooled, it’ll keep in the fridge a good 3 days. You can freeze it too (individual containers make for cracking work lunches). That said, in my house, it never lasts more than a day; someone always goes for ‘just a taste’ around midnight.

Ways to Serve – How We Roll

Always, always with crusty bread. Preferably slathered in real butter. Sometimes we ladle it over mash (bit cheeky, but so good). My sister-in-law adds a squidge of brown sauce on top (if you’re British, you get it!). And if you’ve any fresh parsley, sprinkle a bit on—it makes me feel like Nigella.

Lessons I’ve Learned (Usually The Hard Way)

Don’t try to rush the simmering step. I once served it after just 15 minutes and everything was weirdly crunchy. Never again.
Always taste before adding more salt. Stock cubes can be sneaky salty. Ask me how I know.
Give it a good stir now and then, otherwise those potatoes will weld themselves to the bottom. Happens to the best of us.

People Actually Ask Me These Things

Can I use frozen veg? Yup, all the time. I do it myself when feeling a wee bit lazy (who isn’t on weeknights?).
Do I have to peel the potatoes? Nah. Actually, I find it better with skins—less faff, more nutrients. Unless yours look gnarly, then yeah, peel ‘em!
Can I make it in the slow cooker? For sure (just brown the meat first, unless you fancy a weird texture, and cook on low for about 6 hours). Results are brilliant with minimal eyeballing.
What if I don’t have tomato paste? Don’t stress. Leave it out or add a tiny squirt of ketchup—tastes just fine, pinkie swear.
How thick should it be? However you like—I tend to like it somewhere between soup and gravy. If it’s too thin, simmer it with the lid off. Too thick? Chuck in a splash more stock or water, easy.

So, that’s my ground beef stew—honestly, it’s forgiving, hearty, and guaranteed to fill up even the pickiest eaters (even if they pick out the celery). Give it a bash, and don’t worry if it doesn’t look Insta-perfect. Trust me, nobody notices after the first bite.