Name: Slumgullion (American Goulash)
Prep time: 15 min
Cook time: 35 min
Total time: 50 min
Yield: 6 servings
Cuisine: American
Ingredients: 1 tablespoon olive oil (sometimes I just grab whatever oil is closest; canola works too); 1 pound ground beef (if I’m feeling healthy, I’ll use ground turkey—no one ever notices); 1 medium onion, chopped (red or yellow, doesn’t matter much, but yellow feels classic for me); 3 cloves garlic, minced (one time I used garlic powder instead—still pretty great); 1 green bell pepper, diced (or red, or honestly, that wrinkly one hiding at the back of the drawer); 2 cups beef broth (I’ve made it with water and bouillon cubes in a pinch, no shame); 1 (28 oz) can crushed tomatoes (diced works fine, or tomato sauce if you like it smoother); 2 tablespoons tomato paste (optional, but I like the richness—skip it if you’re feeling lazy); 2 teaspoons smoked paprika (regular paprika if you don’t have it, or just a big ol’ pinch); 1 teaspoon dried oregano; 1 teaspoon dried basil (fresh if you have it, but who are we kidding?); 1 bay leaf (optional; my grandmother swore by it, I forget half the time); Salt and pepper to taste (don’t stress, you can fix it at the end); 2 cups elbow macaroni (sometimes I’m wild and use rotini, or whatever’s left in the box); 1 to 1 ½ cups shredded cheddar cheese (I like extra cheese—don’t let anyone tell you how to live); Fresh parsley, for serving (honestly? I rarely remember this step)

Let’s Talk About Slumgullion—My Tangled Love Letter to American Goulash

Okay, let me set the scene: it’s a Tuesday night, I’m staring at a fridge half-full (or half-empty, if you ask my partner) with a pack of ground beef ready to expire and a box of elbow macaroni taking up too much space in the pantry. My kid is asking what smells funny. My mom used to say, “It always comes together in one pot, just don’t burn it.” So I make slumgullion—a.k.a. American goulash. I’m not sure exactly when the name got so weird (I mean, slumgullion sounds more like an old pirate stew), but all I know is the smell whisks me right back to childhood, where everyone argued over the last spoonful and the dog always won. Oh, and once I knocked over the paprika and everything turned kinda red for a week. Good times, honestly.

Why I Keep Coming Back to This Even When I Shouldn’t

I make this when I can’t be bothered to do a pile of dishes (which is most weeks now, let’s be real). My family goes crazy for it because it’s cheesy, saucy, beefy—kind of like a hug you can eat. I have to say, the first time I made it I forgot to drain the pasta and ended up with soup; oddly enough, didn’t hate it. Someone on TikTok asked if it tastes like school lunch, but honestly, it’s way better. My partner still insists on eating it with a huge hunk of bread (carbs on carbs, yes please). And, look, if you’re running late or just need to clean out the fridge, this dish is forgiving. Like, it won’t judge your week-old bell pepper.

What You’ll Need (But Honestly, Use What You’ve Got)

1 tablespoon olive oil (sometimes I just grab whatever oil is closest; canola works too)
1 pound ground beef (if I’m feeling healthy, I’ll use ground turkey—no one ever notices)
1 medium onion, chopped (red or yellow, doesn’t matter much, but yellow feels classic for me)
3 cloves garlic, minced (one time I used garlic powder instead—still pretty great)
1 green bell pepper, diced (or red, or honestly, that wrinkly one hiding at the back of the drawer)
2 cups beef broth (I’ve made it with water and bouillon cubes in a pinch, no shame)
1 (28 oz) can crushed tomatoes (diced works fine, or tomato sauce if you like it smoother)
2 tablespoons tomato paste (optional, but I like the richness—skip it if you’re feeling lazy)
2 teaspoons smoked paprika (regular paprika if you don’t have it, or just a big ol’ pinch)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil (fresh if you have it, but who are we kidding?)
1 bay leaf (optional; my grandmother swore by it, I forget half the time)
Salt and pepper to taste (don’t stress, you can fix it at the end)
2 cups elbow macaroni (sometimes I’m wild and use rotini, or whatever’s left in the box)
1 to 1 ½ cups shredded cheddar cheese (I like extra cheese—don’t let anyone tell you how to live)
Fresh parsley, for serving (honestly? I rarely remember this step)

How I Usually Make It (And Sometimes Mess Up)

Get your biggest deep skillet or Dutch oven hot and add the olive oil. Toss in the ground beef. Break it apart with a wooden spoon while humming whatever song you can’t get out of your head. Brown it up for about 4-5 minutes. If it’s super greasy, drain off some fat (unless your soul needs that extra flavor, hey, I won’t judge).
Add the chopped onion and bell pepper to the party. Cook for 3-4 minutes until they start softening. Throw in the garlic here too—don’t let it burn. This is where I usually sneak a taste and end up with onion breath.
Stir in the tomato paste, then chuck in crushed tomatoes, beef broth, smoked paprika, oregano, basil, bay leaf, salt, and pepper. Give it all a good stir (don’t worry if it looks a bit weird at this stage—it always does).
Bring that glorious mess to a simmer, cover it up, lower the heat, and let it bubble away for 10-12 minutes so the flavors can mingle. If it spits at you, just give it a gentle stir and move on.
Add the dry macaroni; stir it in. Put the lid back on and cook another 12 or so minutes, until the pasta’s tender but not sad and mushy. Give it a check and a stir so the noodles don’t sneak-stick to the bottom. (Actually, I find it works better if you open the lid once or twice, but up to you.)
Fish out the bay leaf if you remembered to put it in. Add the shredded cheddar and watch it melt into deliciousness. Stir it all through.
Taste and tweak the seasoning—a pinch more salt, maybe more cheese if you’re feeling bold. Then serve warm with a sprinkle of fresh parsley (or skip the green bits like me most nights).

Things I’ve Figured Out (After Several Oops Moments)

Browning the meat first gives you more flavor—yes, even if you’re using turkey. Trust me, I tried skipping this once. Meh.
Don’t use spaghetti noodles—the texture is just not right. Learned the hard way.
If it thickens up too much (which happens if it sits a bit), add a splash of broth or water to loosen things up. Sometimes I panic and add too much but, eh, it sorts itself out.

Twists I’ve Tried (Some Good, Some Not As Much)

Added chopped zucchini or corn, especially when hiding veggies from picky eaters. They don’t notice if you chop it fine.
Once made it with Italian sausage instead of beef—not traditional, but my neighbor almost cried with happiness. Or maybe allergies, not sure.
Tried topping it with crushed potato chips once (blame an eight-year-old). Actually? Not the worst idea on earth.
Do NOT use cinnamon. Found that out so you don’t have to.

What You’ll Need (But Don’t Panic If You Don’t Have Everything)

Big skillet or Dutch oven (ok, so soup pot works—just gets a lil crowded)
Wooden spoon (or spatula, or anything for stirring and breaking up meat; Grandma used a fork!)
Colander for draining (optional, see above lazy moment)

Storing Leftovers (If There Are Any!)

This tastes amazing the next day, honest—reheat in the microwave or on the stovetop. Add a splash of broth if it’s gone thick. Should keep in the fridge up to 3 days. But I’ll be honest, in my house it never lasts more than a day, so good luck testing that theory!

How I Like to Serve It (Family Style Is Best)

Big bowls, right at the kitchen table, everyone grabs a spoon and digs in. Extra cheese on top, maybe a sprinkle of hot sauce for the spice-lovers. My uncle swears by a dollop of sour cream, but I find that a bit much—your call. Always with some crusty bread to mop up the last bits, because leaving sauce in the bowl feels like a crime.

Things I’ve Learned (The Hard Way)

Don’t rush the simmering step. I once cranked up the heat and walked away—came back to scorched goulash and a smoke-alarm serenade. Not my finest hour.
Add cheese just before serving or it gets stringy and kind of weird. Trust me. Learned that one Tuesday night with hungry kids at my elbow.

Questions People Actually Asked Me

Can I make this with gluten-free pasta? Yep! Just keep an eye—the cook time might change. And, some GF pasta goes mushy fast, so taste early.
Is there a vegetarian way? Oh, for sure. Swap beef for lentils or meatless crumbles, use veggie broth, and you’re golden.
Can I freeze it? Sort of. The noodles get a weird texture when thawed, but if you don’t mind that, go for it. Freeze in batches, maybe skip the cheese and add fresh after reheating (or don’t, who’s watching?).
What if I don’t have a Dutch oven? No problem! Any big soup pot or even a deep frying pan does the trick—it may just slosh a little. Watch those elbows.
Why is it called slumgullion, anyway? No idea. Maybe someone just liked the sound? Or misheard goulash—who can say.

Oh, and by the way—if you make extra and plan to eat it for lunch the next day, hide a portion. I learned the hard way that it mysteriously vanishes overnight. Must be goulash gremlins (or hungry teenagers).

Slumgullion (American Goulash)