10 Dump and Go Crock-Pot Recipes

Ten Slow-Cooker Dinners for the Days When Standing at the Stove Is Simply Too Much

Ten easy slow-cooker dinners made for the days when standing at a stove is simply too much.

The fastest one needs about seven minutes of your hands and the slow cooker does the rest of the day.

Real meat-and-potatoes suppers, falling-apart tender, ready and waiting for you at six o’clock.

The slow cooker is the most patient cook in the house.

So let’s put it to work.

Number one is Mississippi pot roast.

This is the pot roast that took over the South, and once you taste why, you will understand the fuss.

Five ingredients go into the pot and not one of them gets measured.

A three-pound chuck roast settles right in the middle.

Sprinkle one packet of ranch dressing mix evenly over the top, then one packet of au jus gravy mix.

Set half a stick of butter on top of the meat—just lay it there whole.

Tuck five or six pepperoncini peppers around the sides.

Here is where nearly everybody goes wrong: adding water.

Not a drop. The roast releases its own juices as it warms and they mingle with the butter and seasonings into a gravy you could not buy anywhere.

Lid on, low for eight hours.

When you lift the lid, the roast has sunk into a pool of dark glossy gravy.

Two forks pull it into long tender shreds.

Stir the shreds through the gravy, pile it over mashed potatoes or pack it onto a soft roll.

Your hands worked three minutes and supper tastes like six hours of effort.

Number two is white chicken chili.

A creamy, gentle chili—no tomatoes, no heavy spice, just tender chicken, white beans, and a silky broth.

Five or six chicken thighs (about a pound and a half) go into the pot with two cans of drained white beans, one small can of mild chopped green chilies, two cups of chicken broth, a teaspoon of cumin, and half a teaspoon of garlic powder.

One stir and the lid goes on.

Low for six hours. Shred the chicken right in the pot.

Then comes the step everyone rushes: the cream cheese.

Cut four ounces into small cubes and stir them in only for the last thirty minutes.

Add it earlier and it turns grainy.

At the end it melts into a pale, velvet broth that clings to the spoon.

Ladle it deep into a warm bowl, add a pinch of shredded cheese or a few crushed tortilla chips if you like.

It is chili the way a sweater is a coat—softer, kinder, and just right for an ordinary evening.

Number three is old-fashioned pot roast with carrots and potatoes.

The supper that used to mean Sunday, now easy enough for Tuesday.

The order you load the pot decides everything.

Vegetables on the bottom, meat on top.

Big honest chunks of three potatoes, thick coins of two or three carrots, and half an onion in wedges form a proper vegetable bed.

Set a three-pound chuck roast on top, season well with salt and pepper, pour one cup of beef broth down the side, and add a pinch of dried thyme.

Browning the roast first is optional; the supper will still be wonderful without it.

Low for eight to nine hours.

The roast becomes fork-tender, the potatoes underneath drink up the drippings and turn golden, the carrots go sweet and soft.

Spoon the natural gravy over everything.

This is the plate half of America grew up on, and it has not lost a step.

Number four is creamy potato soup.

Thick, warm, and velvety. Dice six potatoes and one onion, put them in the slow cooker with four cups of chicken broth and a good pinch of black pepper.

Low for six to seven hours until the potatoes fall apart.

Mash right in the pot with a potato masher—about half the potatoes, leaving the rest in soft chunks.

Only after mashing do the dairy and cheese go in: one cup of cream or whole milk and one cup of shredded cheddar, stirred slowly.

Ten more minutes and the soup turns pale gold and silky.

Thick enough that the spoon stands at attention for a second.

A little crumbled bacon or extra cheddar on top makes it diner-fancy, but it needs nothing.

Potatoes and onions cost next to nothing, making this one of the cheapest and most comforting full suppers on the liSt.

Number five is slow-cooker lasagna.

Real layers, real cheese, no boiling, no oven.

Brown one pound of ground beef and stir it into two full jars of marinara sauce.

Build the layers right in the slow cooker: a ladle of meat sauce, dry lasagna noodles broken by hand to fit, spoonfuls of ricotta, a handful of mozzarella.

Repeat three times, ending with sauce and a good cap of mozzarella.

Tuck any dry corners of pasta under the sauce.

Low for four hours only—pasta keeps different time than a roaSt. At four hours turn it off, lid off, and rest ten minutes so the layers settle.

Slide a big spoon down through the layers and the mozzarella stretches in long lazy ribbons.

It looks like it came from an Italian grandmother’s oven.

Nobody needs to know how easy it was.

Number six is smothered pork chops.

Everything depends on buying the right chop.

Skip the lean pale loin chops; they turn dry.

Look for shoulder or blade chops with ribbons of marbling.

Lay four chops in the slow cooker, scatter one whole onion sliced into rings over the top, and pour over a can of cream of mushroom soup whisked with half a can of milk and black pepper.

Low for six hours. The onions melt into the soup and turn it into a deep savory gravy.

The chops become soft enough to cut with the side of a fork.

Serve over rice or mashed potatoes and spoon that onion gravy until the plate looks properly smothered.

It still eats like a warm handshake.

Number seven is chicken and gravy over mashed potatoes.

Five or six chicken thighs go into the pot—thigh meat shreds into soft juicy ribbons where breast would go stringy.

Whisk two packets of chicken gravy mix into two cups of water, add a pinch of garlic powder, and pour over the chicken.

Low for six hours. Shred the meat right in the gravy.

One quiet spoonful of sour cream stirred in at the end rounds everything out and makes it taste slow-simmered.

Serve over a generous mound of mashed potatoes with a well in the middle so the gravy runs down the sides.

Soft, warm, and savory—comfort by the ladle.

Number eight is sweet and tangy meatballs, the seven-minute supper.

One bag of fully cooked frozen meatballs (about twenty-six ounces) goes straight into the slow cooker—frozen, not thawed.

Spoon one cup of grape jelly and one cup of barbecue sauce over the top and give a rough stir.

Low for three hours. The jelly melts into the smoky sauce and becomes a thick glossy glaze that clings to every meatball.

Spoon them over buttered egg noodles or rice.

Five or six meatballs with plenty of glaze is a full supper, and the leftovers reheat like a dream.

Seven minutes of hands-on work, most of it finding the can opener.

Number nine is old-fashioned beef stew.

Two pounds of chuck roast cut into big cubes get tossed in three tablespoons of flour until every piece wears a thin white dusting—the secret to a thick stew with no last-minute lumps.

Into the pot go the floured beef, three carrots in thick coins, three potatoes in chunks, one chopped onion, three cups of beef broth, a spoonful of tomato paste, and a pinch of thyme.

Low for eight hours. The beef shreds at the touch of a fork, the vegetables are soft and sweet, and the broth has turned into a proper brown gravy that stands up on the spoon.

Serve with thick buttered bread for wiping the bottom of the bowl.

One pot covers three suppers and only gets better each day it sits.

Number ten is slow-cooker apple crisp.

Peel and slice five or six apples, toss them in the pot with two spoonfuls of sugar and a teaspoon of cinnamon.

For the topping stir one cup of oats, half a cup of flour, and half a cup of brown sugar, then pour in a stick of melted butter until it clumps into sweet sandy pebbles.

Scatter the clumps over the apples.

Low for about three hours.

For the last hour prop the lid open just a crack with a wooden spoon handle so steam escapes and the crumble sets up toasty instead of soggy.

Spoon warm into a bowl with its fair share of crumble.

A scoop of vanilla ice cream melting into the cinnamon apples is the most agreeable ending a supper can have.

There they are—ten slow-cooker suppers from a Mississippi roast to warm apple crisp, and hardly a minute of standing in any of them.

Load them in the morning, live your day, and let six o’clock take care of itself.