It’s chili weather!

 

When evenings start to get just a little cool my first thought is, “It’s chili weather!”

I was a northerner the first twenty-some years of my life, and chili as I knew it can from a can. I don’t think we even knew about Wolf brand, the Texas king of canned chilis. The great, late Frank Tolbert, chili-head extraordinaire and organizer of the first Tolbert Chili Cook-off which spawned cook-offs across the nation, even recommended Wolf Brand. There’s an entire book about the brand, and lots of stories, like the woman who took the slogan “Just heat and eat” literally and put an unopened can on the stove burner. When it exploded, the company paid for the restoration of her kitchen. Or the store in South Texas that stocked the chili with the dog food because the staff didn’t speak English and saw the wolf on the label. And every Texan can still hear those sonorous tones, “Neighbor, how long has it been since you had a big, thick, steaming bowl of Wolf Brand Chili?”

Wolf Brand wasn’t the only thing I learned when I did the research for a book titled Texas is Chili Country. There’s the history--Mexicans are disdainful of chili and adamant that it did not come from their country. In truth, the dish originated around the cousie’s campfire in cattle camps and on drives. The cook used what was handy—beef and herbs or spices found on the prairie. The tomatoes came later.

Along with the history, I found how many different dishes fell under the umbrella label of chili. Beans or no beans? Vegetables? Straightforward chili powder or an array of spices? Cubed steak? Ground beef? Vegan? Turkey or chicken? Venison makes a great pot of chili, although the girls in my family uniformly objected to the texture. You can make chili in various colors—verde, or green, or white with chicken or turkey.

A friend recently wrote me that years ago when she moved to Houston the second day she was there, a Texan shot a bartender because the latter had put beans in his chili. All I could reply was that Texans are particular about their chili. One of my neighbors is a chili purist and a goes to the mother of chili cook-offs at Terlingua every year. We had a mini-cook-off in my kitchen one night. His chili was pieces of beef floating in a spicy, thin red sauce. Mine, he said disparagingly, was a good meat-and-bean stew, but it was not chili. As a northern transplant, now of some fifty-five years, I admit my chili is mild and tentative, but it is hearty, easy, and soul-warming. For those who like beans and want their chili on the mild side, here’s what I did.

Judy’s Mild and Tentative Chili

1 lb. ground beef

1 large onion, chopped

2 large cloves garlic, chopped

Enough oil to sauté onion, garlic, and beef

1 8-oz. can tomato sauce

1 cup beer, or more if it gets too thick

4 tsp. chili powder or to taste

½ tsp. Tabasco

2 tsp. salt

2 c. canned beans, rinsed and drained

Brown onion and garlic; add hamburger and cook until all pink is gone.

Add everything else except beans and simmer for 60 to 90 minutes. Stir occasionally, and add more beer as needed (you’ve got that open warm beer anyway). Taste and add more chili powder as needed. Add beans and heat just before serving.

A word about beans: these days I prefer pinto beans, but I used to use Ranch brand, rinsing off the sauce. Some people like black beans, which work perfectly well.

Many people, Texans and otherwise, crumbly saltines into their chili. My family likes to top it with chopped purple onion and grated cheddar. Another new innovation: this fall I think I’ll pickle the onions. Just slice thinly, separate into rings, pack in a jar, and cover with a mixture of ½ vinegar (either cider or red wine) and ½ water. Let marinate in refrigerator at least overnight.

Sorry to be so commercial, but I can't resist adding a buy link. Read all about the history, the first ever chili cookoff, the later battle between festivals, and recipes galore. A fun book to research and write. Hope you find it fun to prowl through.

 

Amazon: Texas Is Chili Country: A Brief History with Recipes: Alter, Judy: 9780896729469: Amazon.com: Books