Super Bowl Chili

I had the very good fortune to be the chief judge at the Chili Cookoff in Richmond, Virginia twice running back in the eighties. This was an unsanctioned event, sponsored by a radio station, but the chili was great. There were six other judges. When I walked in with a big pan of basmati rice, they all looked at me funny.

“What’s that?” one asked.

“Oh,” I said. “It’s just big pan of some very good basmati rice.”

“Rice?” he said. “This is a chili cookoff.”

I could see he might have had a little too much coffee.

“Right,” I said. “And I’m the chief judge. Pleased to meet you. Here’s your score sheets. Now let’s go out there and see what we can learn about these people making chili.”

“What’s the rice for?” he persisted.

“Oh,” I said. “Nothing, really. It was on the back seat of my car, so I just brought it in. Let’s all go see how these great chili cooks are doing, shall we? We’ll meet back here in a couple hours?”

Words cannot do justice to the savor of all those many different chilis cooking. It was paradise. The smell was glorious.

I think there were 80 contestants. Well no, probably just 40. My memory gets hazy when I think of tasting all that chili. Eighty might have killed us. Even forty tablespoons of chili is about five cups.

I believe it is impossible to judge a chili properly without tasting at least one good tablespoon. It’s not like wine – you can’t just spit the chili out. The heat as it goes down is part of the experience.

Near as I could make out, all the chili cooks had been inspired to make contest chili that was blazing hot. Blazing is an inadequate word. Some of their chilis could make your eyes water from ten feet away. There may have been a separate betting pool among the chili cooks to see who could make your eyes bug out the farthest.

Back in the judges’ chamber, after the tenth taste, one of the judges called me over. In an undertone, he said: “Say. Maybe – do you think I might could have some of that rice?” I noticed all the others looked up hopefully.

“Rice?” I said. “By damn I plumb forgot about that rice. But that’s what it’s there for. Sort of a palate cleanser. Help yourself.”

Never have I seen grown men so grateful for a bowl of plain white rice.

We eliminated half of the chilis on the first run through and then started again. After a good deal of discussion, we got it down to a dozen. Then we started to discuss the fine points. Which one lingered longest in your mind? Before long we decided on the winners. The Cimarron Rose won both years for their Rattlesnake Chili. I judged it second one year and third the next. I forget whose chili I liked better. So Maybe the Rattlesnake Chili was best after all – at least I still remember it.

Chili should always be an adventure. Great chili cooks rarely make it exactly the same way twice. They almost never use a recipe, except maybe as a guide or map. They just have the concept firmly fixed in mind, and they proceed toward the ultimate goal with commendable certainty and, in most cases, considerable panache.

They are proud of what they do – and should be proud.

Chili is a sacred food. Never forget that. A reverent attitude will help you to achieve celestial results. Great chili is food fit for the gods. It is food that will make you feel you are a god as long as you can go on eating it.

Of course the composition of a pot of chili will depend on what ingredients the chef may have on hand or can easily find at the nearest grocery store. It stands to reason that the better the ingredients, the better your chili will turn out, doesn’t it? But many pots of chili have been ruined right from the start by using the cheapest grade of hamburger.

Do your best to find some ancho chilis – it’s not impossible, even on the East Coast.

A great bowl of chili should be something that you dream of, certainly for days, possibly for weeks, for months, maybe even for years. However, we should all hope that our friends will never have to wait years between bowls of great chili. As a chili cook, you will always look forward to making your next bowl of chili – not constantly, of course, that would be too much. But now and then, from time to time.

I never had a great bowl of chili at a restaurant that I didn’t own. I have had restaurant chili I might eat again. People with lower standards and a less reverent attitude might even call those chilis great. But for me, they inspired little more than an urge to go home and make another great pot of my own chili. I believe, however, that there probably are restaurants – somewhere in Texas – where you can count on getting at least a very good bowl of chili.

Hell, I’m not the world’s greatest authority – I’m just anothher true believer.

The savor of the chili cooking should completely penetrate your house. Guests should remark on it as soon as they walk in the door. They’ll always tell you it is “good.” Often they’ll tell you it’s “great.” But the real test never lies in what they say – it lies in how many bowls they will eat. If the chili really is great, they will keep returning for another bowl. Another two bowls? Three bowls? Even with a chili whose pepper heat is this mild, four bowls might be almost tantamount to suicide.

Though the chili heat of this one is appropriate for chili that will be served not just to strong grown men but also to women and children, the flavor – the savor! – and the experience of eating it are so good that before long you’ll be looking for a reason why you have to make some more. Even after you have fit yourself around as many bowls as you can hold, you may find yourself wondering if maybe … possibly … you can go back for just one little taste again.

This is a relatively traditional American chili con carne with beans and tomato both playing a strong role. The main taste is a blend of ancho chili and cumin.

This chili will serve at least a dozen mixed hearty eaters and ordinary folk, with not much left over. If you want to be completely sure of having some left over, take it out before you serve. If you don’t plan on feeding a big crowd, just cut all the measurements in half.


Super Bowl Chili

3-4 lbs. chili ground beef
6 medium (large) organic yellow onions
12 good cloves of garlic
1 green pepper
1 organic carrot
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt
4 tbsps. ancho chili powder
8 tbsps. good cumin
3 tbsps. paprika
3 bay leaves
oregano
4-6 ancho chilis
6 28 oz. cans red kidney beans
2 14 oz. cans diced fire roasted organic tomatoes (with green chilies)
1 can refried pinto beans (no lard)
saffron
water
corn tortillas
pico de gallo
finely chopped onion
chopped cilantro
sour cream
grated cheese
Plenty of nicely cooked basmati or short grain American white rice

Ask the butcher to grind three or four pounds of fairly lean beef chuck (80% lean) by putting it just once through the coarse blade of the grinder. This will not destroy all its fibers and will not cause it to taste like hamburger. Turn it out on a large flat platter and flatten it down gently to an inch and a half thick. Sprinkle it all over with half the ancho chili powder, half the paprika, and salt. Fold it in half. Sprinkle the upper surface with the same ingredients, then turn it over and sprinkle the remaining surface. Work it with your hands to mix the spices in. Set it to browning over high heat in a very large soup kettle with plenty of olive oil. It should cover the bottom completely. Turn it over after the first side is browned, and, as it gets done, begin breaking it up in chunks.

Peel and dice six large onions. Mince twelve cloves of garlic. Tumble these in on top of the browned beef, which should have cooked through by now, and break it up some more. Not too small. You want toothsome little pieces, not sand. Remove the stem, seeds and ribs from a green pepper and cut it up in small dice. You can singe the skin off if you like, but since almost no one will notice (you can trust me on this), why bother?

Put in one large carrot cut in pieces about half the size of a kidney bean. Do not put in any celery. Celery is anathema to chili. So is chervil.

As the onion takes on a translucent color, a delightful aroma will begin to permeate your house. You may wonder why you need any other ingredients. Taste the mixture from time to time and adjust the salt slightly if necessary. You don’t want it to be too salty, but you don’t want it to taste unsalted, either. Keep in mind it’s going to cook down some.

Lower the flame when it begins to stick. You really don’t want it to scorch. If it does start sticking more than it should, remove the kettle from the flame, let it rest a few minutes, check the bottom to be sure it hasn’t actually burned, and then stir it up carefully after the sticky part has relaxed. Continue cooking until the mixture is dry, adding more olive oil if necessary. At this point, you can put the kettle in the oven at 300° for half an hour or so. This will help concentrate the flavor back into the meat. Add three more tablespoons of cumin, more ancho chili powder if you have some left, and four to six ancho chilis, seeds and stems removed. The anchos should be torn into pieces small enough to adorn a spoon of chili. Some will be larger than others.

By this time its savor will be heavenly.

Meanwhile, open six cans of red kidney beans and two cans of diced fire roasted organic tomatoes with green chilies. When the meat mixture seems ready – when you have sampled it to your heart’s content and it seems right – pour the beans and all their liquid into the kettle. Add the tomatoes and a good tweak of Spanish saffron. The saffron should be just a grace note, something not really noticed that yet adds a delicate savor. Put in some oregano to gentle the tomato. Not too much – it can get bitter. There won’t be enough liquid, so add about a quart of good fresh-tasting water. Stir to mix. It will be fairly soupy at this point, but don’t worry – it will cook down a bit.

Bring to a simmer over medium high heat, stirring frequently to be sure it’s not scorching. Although you don’t have to be in the kitchen, you will have to keep returning.

At this point, some fat will rise to the surface. Don’t skim it off. It is a mixture of beef fat and olive oil, and it carries quite a lot of the best flavor.

At this point you should be roughly 2-1/2 to three hours away from eating chili. Set the kettle in a 350° oven. Let it repose there for a total of two hours. During this time, you can feel free to do other things. You can even leave the house for a while. Just be careful to look in on it from time to time and give it a good stir. Plunge a dipper toward the bottom and remove a good test sample to be sure the beef chunks are not too large and that the flavors are all blending properly.

After an hour or so, when the chili will have cooked down by at least an inch, remove a cup of liquid. Put it in a large bowl and mix it to a smooth paste with a small can of refried beans. Thin this with another cup of liquid, then return it all to the chili and stir slowly for a while to mix completely. Let the chili simmer on top of the stove for five minutes or so on very low heat, without stirring, until the purple brown fat has risen to the surface again.

Meanwhile, tear (or cut) at least a dozen (two dozen might be better) corn tortillas into bite sized pieces. Spread these over the surface. Push down lightly so that they all get wet. Do not use corn chips. Sprinkle with a little cumin and some ancho chili powder if there is any left. Return to the oven for another hour.

Taste to be sure the meat is tender. Take the kettle out of the oven and let it rest over no flame at all for at least half an hour. It will thicken slightly as it cools and there will be

For the dishup, serve in large bowls with the following items nearby for free choice: corn tortillas, pico de gallo, finely chopped onion, chopped cilantro, sour cream and grated cheese. Some people like a few shreds of crisp lettuce. Plain white rice (basmati rice or American short grain) is always welcome.

Note: The chopped onion can be supplemented (but not replaced) by the following quick onion pickle: cut one large yellow onion in half and then into very, very, very thin slices. Put these in a large bowl and sprinkle them heavily with salt. Let them rest about an hour, until quite a lot of juice has come off. Cover them with good fresh water and stir until the salt dissolves, then pour the liquid down the drain. Rinse them again to get almost all the salt off. Transfer to a smaller bowl that just holds them, and sprinkle with enough fresh lime juice to drown them. Cover the bowl and let it rest overnight in the refrigerator.

Note: Canned kidney beans are specified. I like them better than fresh dry kidney beans, which tend to be mealy. You’ll want about a pound and a half or maybe two of dry red kidney beans if you decide to try that route. Using canned beans also saves the trouble of soaking them overnight and stewing them separately in a large pot for an hour before adding them to the chili, and thus gives you more control over the timing of when everything will be ready to eat.

Note: Ancho chili powder, fairly mild and with good flavor, is now available commercially from The Spice Hunter. The mildness of the powder probably indicates that the seeds and stems were removed before grinding. You can make your own ancho chili powder in your coffee grinder. Remove the stems and seeds and tear the anchos into pieces small enough to fit into the coffee grinder. Whirl until they’re powdered and repeat the process until you have enough. Don’t worry about affecting the flavor of your next cup of coffee – it will be affected, but in a positive way. In fact, adding a small piece of ancho chili to the coffee beans as you grind them may become, if not a habit, then at least a regular possibility. Believe me. You should try this. Works best with dark-roasted premium coffees (of course) and makes an excellent nikoloshka. (Dark coffee or espresso (no milk) with a twist of lemon.)

Note: If at some point you find that your chili has actually started to scorch, first give yourself a good mental spanking for leaving it alone too long. Chili, like children, needs much looking after. Stirring up the scorched part will just make matters worse. Take it off the heat and immediately pour it all into a new pan (or pans). Clean the first pan carefully, removing any trace of scorched stuff. Put the chili back in and go on. More carefully. Of course, if the chili really does taste burned, you will have to throw it away. Live and learn. And next time, pay attention.