I Tried Martha Stewart’s Sloppy Joe Recipe, and It Matched My Mood Too Well
Some days, everything spills.
Your coffee. Your plans. Your patience.
And all you want is something that doesn’t ask you to plate it nicely.
That was yesterday.
The fridge was half judgment, half leftovers. The counters were already sticky from Mae’s smoothie disaster. I wasn’t hungry, exactly. I just needed to make something loud and warm and falling apart in my hands.
So. Sloppy Joes.
Her Highness has a recipe for them. Of course she does.
It’s neater than mine turned out. But it still worked.
What Martha’s Original Looked Like
Martha’s version is clean. Surprisingly simple for something she normally crowns with fresh herbs.
A basic blend of aromatics—onion, celery, bell pepper, garlic—softened in oil. Ground beef. Tomato sauce. Ketchup. Worcestershire.
It simmers down into a tangy ground beef sauce that’s supposed to sit inside toasted buns like it belongs there.
It’s not fussy.
It doesn’t pretend to be gourmet.
It just tastes like the kind of thing you’d make when there’s nothing left to say.
What I Did Differently
I used olive oil.
Didn’t have canola. Didn’t care.
Added a little red pepper flake. Just a pinch. Because I needed it to bite back.
My garlic was pre-minced. From a jar. It was a Thursday. I’m not apologizing.
And the ketchup? I might’ve poured more than a quarter cup. Might’ve squirted straight from the bottle and called it good.
The Way It Happened In My Kitchen
I started with the onion. It hit the pan and hissed at me.
The bell pepper followed—barely green anymore, just on the edge of soft.
Celery, garlic, salt, pepper. I stirred. I didn’t rush. I didn’t slow down.
Mae asked what I was making. I said, “A mess.” She laughed.
I didn’t.
The beef went in cold. I broke it apart like pulling at something I shouldn’t have said.
It browned fast. Or I just wasn’t paying attention.
Then the tomato sauce. Ketchup. Worcestershire. It all blurred into something familiar and red.
I let it simmer. Stirred when I remembered. Tasted. Burned my tongue a little.
Didn’t stop.
I toasted the buns on the stove.
They burned. Just a little. The smell reminded me of burnt toast mornings—those days when I could tell by the smell it was going to be a bad one.
I spooned the hot, sloppy beef onto the bread. It slid out the sides. I let it.
A Few Things I Learned
- The messier it looks, the more likely it is to feel like food.
- Worcestershire sauce smells like something you miss but won’t admit.
- Sloppy Joes are therapy in a skillet. But you have to eat it fast. Before it sags too much.
What I Did With The Extras
Wrapped one in foil. Ate it cold later.
Mae took hers upstairs. Texted: “This is weirdly amazing.”
She was right.
Would I Make It Again?
Only on days when I need to chew through something emotional.
That’s As Much As I Remember
It dripped down my hand.
So I licked it off.
Didn’t reach for a napkin. Didn’t need to.
This Reminded Me Of The Lentil Stew I Made After The Breakup. Hotter. Saltier. Same Ache.
FAQs
yes. it’ll be lighter. less punch. but still comforting.
you don’t have to. but it won’t taste the same. that depth? that whisper of steakhouse sadness? that’s it.
totally. it reheats fast. just stir well and toast fresh buns when you’re ready.
whatever holds. brioche is fancy. i used what was in the freezer. they cracked. still good.
oh yeah. red pepper flake, hot sauce, jalapeño—go for it. let the sauce match your mood.
Check out More Recipes:
Martha Stewart Sloppy Joe
Description
Savory, Messy, A Little Too Honest—Like Something You Make When You Don’T Want To Talk, But Need To Eat.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Heat some oil in a large pan.
- Toss in the onion, bell pepper, celery, and garlic.
- Add salt and pepper. don’t measure. just feel it.
- Stir and cook until everything softens and starts smelling like something you actually want to eat.
- Add the ground beef.
- Break it up with a spoon—or whatever’s nearby—like you’re taking apart a thought you didn’t mean to say.
- Cook until browned. no pink left. just flavor.
- Pour in the tomato sauce, ketchup, and Worcestershire.
- Stir it through until it looks like sauce and not just parts.
- Let it simmer for 6–8 minutes, until thickened and talking back a little.
- Taste it. Adjust. add more salt, more heat, more whatever you need.
- Toast the buns. or don’t. I used the broiler. burned one. ate it anyway.
- Spoon the beef mixture on top. don’t try to make it pretty.
- Eat hot. Standing. Over the sink if needed. no plate. just paper towels and the kind of silence that tastes like honesty.