Ah, winter, the season for sledding, snow men and skiing. But all that is behind me. One winter treat remains, however.
Chili.
The very word causes my stomach to growl. I have two food passions – chili and barbecue – but only one is seasonal (chili and hot weather just don’t go together). On a cold winter night, give me a hot bowl of red, as chili is known in Texas.
Like barbecue, chili comes in various versions. It originated in Texas, and die-hard chili lovers still look west for the real thing. It started out very simple: bite-size chunks of beef seasoned with hot peppers and a few spices. That was it. No beans, tomatoes or even onions, although all of those ingredients eventually began to creep into Texas chili. But you can go only so far in that direction and still call it chili.
I’ve heard tell that in Cincinnati they pour chili over spaghetti noodles. Texans have been known to gag to death at the very thought of such an abomination.
Hard-nosed Texas chili eaters stick with chili as it first appeared, probably in the early to mid-19th century, and probably in San Antonio — which can lay claim to being the first chili town in America.
But to me the real question isn’t whether this is the authentic, original chili, but is it the best chili? Probably not. Just as the first steaks were tough as saddle leather, the original chili was not the last word on the subject. I happen to think that beans, tomatoes and onions can make Texas chili even better.
But don’t tell me to add green peppers, chocolate, beer or pork to the pot. My chili heart remains in the Lone Star State.
I write this as I am finishing up a pot of chili I made with small inexpensive beef cuts, red beans, onions, fire-roasted tomatoes, cumin, oregano and garlic and topped off with a spicy chili powder. Adding a jigger or two of apple cider vinegar to your bowl of chili never hurts either.
I know chili purists call for real peppers, but for us Midwesterners they’re not always readily available (and can be dicey to handle). A good chili powder is more practical, and they come in every variety imaginable. The darker chili powders, my preference, are hotter and sweeter than the lighter shades.
Since peppers are what make chili chili, one’s tolerance for heat determines how you prefer your bowl of red. I like a chili that bites back – but not at the smoke-coming-out-your-ears level that some chili heads swear by. Besides making good chili, peppers are loaded with vitamins and have medical benefits as well, such as for arthritis and inflammation.
As we get deeper into chili season, my advice is to find a good recipe that appeals to your taste buds (the internet if full of them, and of the writing of chili cookbooks there is no end), and stoke up the fire.
Bon appetit, pardner!
