tradition

Tradition is tradition and we’re coming up on a time of year where that word is tethered to the family table. For our family it starts on Halloween, a night on which none of my children has ever begged candy without first taking in a warm bowl of Grandpa’s chili. His chili and a heavy bucket of candy are linked in their minds. So, in honor of this Halloween tradition I share this story, which I wrote for Sauce Magazine in 2003. There are three recipes at the bottom … all good in a Crockpot. Enjoy!

One look at “an original recipe for chili” shows that what we call chili just isn’t the same thing. By and large, Midwestern chili has chopped vegetables, beans, and ground beef. The beef stands alone in a traditional Texas Red. And, newer to the table, are the bean-packed, meatless chilis so many Americans enjoy.

What makes this dish so uniquely American isn’t its history on the wide open range. It’s that it’s a regional dish, it’s a controversial dish and it’s a powerful force.

No, the power isn’t packed in the cayenne pepper. The power is packed in our ability to respectfully disagree. For all the differences in us and in what we call chili, no matter how it’s served, chili brings us together.

An on-line search for the history of chili only confirms that, when it comes to this dish, no one agrees on anything. Not even the history. It can be said with certainty, however, that chili was popularized on the cattle trails of the Old West. Born of necessity, this dish accomplished two things. The seasonings adequately disguised meat that would be otherwise unacceptable and the combination of meat and finely ground cornmeal filled the stomachs of hungry men.

But even then, there were arguments as to who made the best chili, as well as signs that nothing brings us closer than a quality bowlful.

The James boys were said to enjoy more than one bowl of Texas Red, but apparently had strong opinions about what they ate. According to legend, there was a chili parlor so good in Fort Worth, Texas, that Frank and Jesse decided to spare the local bank. Still other stories tie chili to outlaws and lawmen alike. Pat Garrett apparently found at least one redeeming quality in William “Billy the Kid” Bonney, reportedly saying, “Anybody that eats chili can’t be all bad.”

The concoction made its way from the trails to the towns, and soon to the cities. By the late 1800s, the Chili Queens were perfecting their recipes, in hopes of winning the most late-night customers on San Antonio’s Military Plaza. The women would cook at home, then load brightly decorated carts and head for the plaza. There they would build mesquite fires and customers would perch themselves on small stools, partaking in their favorite blend from small crocks. Eventually health officials put a stop to the tradition, but not before chili had found its way across the country.

It was inevitable, really. Chili warms you up, feeds a crowd and is cheap. Those were especially important qualities for food during the Great Depression ... and we still appreciate those qualities today. That’s why one unifying force among Midwestern chili chefs is the chili season. On this they agree: It starts in October. But, when does it end?

“Thanksgiving?” asks Ed of Des Peres, Mo. He’s surprised by the response of one of his teammates at the Missouri State Chili Cook-Off. “How are you going to have it for the Super Bowl? You start making chili in October and you stop about St. Patrick’s Day, when you switch to corned beef.”

By and large, the rule around here seems to be to start making chili when it gets cold and to stop when it warms up. But what goes in the pot stirs more friendly debate than any of the other disputed facts about the dish. All that can be determined from some of the area’s most die-hard chili chefs is this: It’s not soup, and it’s not stew

“I don’t like it thin,” says former cook-off winner Mike of Manchester, Mo. “Sometimes, it gets too thick. I like it just down the middle of the road, where the spoon just gently rocks to the side.

“If I wanted thin, I’d eat vegetable soup,” he continues. “If I wanted it thick, I’d eat beef stew.”

Chili should hold its place, on a spoon or atop a hot dog. It can be over things, such as crackers or macaroni. It can be topped, usually by grated cheddar cheese. Beans, no beans; tomatoes, no tomatoes; meat, no meat … it’s all up for grabs.

“It’s like a snowflake,” says cook-off competitor Mike of South St. Louis County. “Even though it’s similar, it’s never the same twice.”

And in that lies the beauty of the dish. It’s up to the individual. Strict followers of written recipes might never climb the ranks to chili greatness. More than any other meal, you make it up as you go along, using what you have on hand, just as those cooks did so long ago on the trail. And when those who come together to eat it argue over what makes it great, you’ll know you’ve found a winner.

Original Texas Red
This recipe, adapted from one found at www.recipesource.com, is based on the originals. Note the minimal ingredients … it seems real cowboys didn’t have time to soak beans or chop vegetables.

3 lbs ground or cubed chuck
¼ cup oil
2 cups water
1 tsp. salt or to taste
10 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
¾ cup chili powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried cayene pepper or to taste
½ tsp. black pepper
1 Tbsp. sugar
3 Tbsp. flour
½ cup Masa (fine ground corn meal)

In a large skillet, saute meat in oil until browned. Add water and simmer 1½ to 2 hours. In a small bowl, mix chili powder, salt, garlic, cumin, oregano, cayene pepper, black pepper and sugar. Add to skillet. Simmer 30 minutes ... cooking longer will cause spices to lose flavor. In a small bowl mix flour and Masa. Wisk flour-Masa mixture into chili ... stirring constantly to prevent sticking. Bring mixture back to simmer until thickened. Remove from heat. Serve over beans, rice, hot dogs, enchiladas, burritos, or eat plain. Top with grated cheese.

5 beans, 3 peppers and a beer
1½ cups finely chopped onion
1 cup finely chopped green bell pepper
1 cup finely chopped red bell pepper
1 cup finely chopped yellow bell pepper
2 tsp. chili powder
2 tsp. ground cumin
1½ tsp. dried oregano
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 15-oz. can Great Northern beans
1 15-oz. can butter beans
1 15-oz. can navy beans
1 15-oz. can kidney beans
1 15-oz. can black beans
6 oz. beer (I use Hofbrau House Oktoberfest)
Optional: 3 Tbsp. flour mixed with ½ cup Masa (fine ground corn meal)

Combine ingredients in a large crock pot, stirring thoroughly. Cook at least 3 hours. To thicken chili, whisk in flour-Masa mixture 15 minutes before serving.

Chicken With 3 White Beans
This recipe is my adaptation of QB Drew Bledsoe's Patriotic White Chicken Chili, found on Page 7 of AllStar Feast Cookbook, compiled by Wendy Diamond (1997).

1 lb. Boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 medium carrots cut in 2-inch sections
2 stalks celery, with leaves, cut in 2-inch sections
1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
2 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
10 cups cold water
6 chicken bouillon cubes
3-4 cups diced cooked chicken
1½ cups chopped onion
1 15-oz. can Navy beans
1 15-oz. can butter beans
1 15-oz. Great Northern beans
1 7-oz. can diced green chiles
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. ground cumin
1½ tsp. dried oregano
¼ tsp. dried cayenne pepper
4 cups chicken broth

In a large pot, combine chicken, carrots, celery, quartered onion, sliced garlic cloves and water. Cook covered, over medium heat, about 45 minutes. Remove chicken and reserve. Add bouillon cubes and cook, uncovered over medium heat, about 15 minutes more. Strain. Reserve broth and discard vegetables. In same pot, combine chopped chicken and onion, beans, chiles, seasonings and broth. Cook, uncovered over medium heat, until it reaches a boil. Reduce heat to low and cook, over low heat, 1 to 3 hours more. Serve topped with grated Monterey Jack cheese. For more power, serve with grated pepper-jack cheese.