When I was a young boy, home alone during the Summer months I would often consume Hormel’s canned chili for lunch. It slides out of the can like dog food, it’s ready to consume after 4 minutes in the microwave and it can be dumped onto anything (I once ate strawberries and chili). I remember it fondly, but like so many foods I loved as a child (any fast food ever) it has lost virtually all of its appeal to me. It is bland, boring and of questionable quality and origin. So with fond memories of what was, and a better understanding of true quality I began the ritualistic search for something better.
My first chili making foray was undertaken on a cold day in San Francisco. I was essentially jobless, very bored and mildly depressed. I would often fill my days with little projects, like walking from the apartment in the sunset to the mission district to visit a thrift store I read about, planning a UFO hoax, or dawning a backpacking backpack and cutting through golden gate park to Smart And Final to do grocery shopping, then hoofing it back through the botanical gardens as a workout… Essentially I was like a twenty two year old retiree, just filling up time. One of these lonely, lazy days was spent making chili. I went to a upper scale grocery store and bought something like 5lbs of high quality tri-tip, and all the other necessary ingredients, I think I probably spent fifty bucks. I slaved over it for hours, it was a complicated recipe for a chili dish, and the end result was horrid. The meat fell apart, in a bad way, it was too spicy and a complete failure. The left overs lived untouched in the freezer for months…
Time passed and I improved my cooking skills a considerable bit. I learned a lot about balance in food (and in life, hurrr), and when I was good and ready, I tried making chili again. It was this recipe that I used, and since then I’ve made it probably four times. Each time I figure out a little bit more and worry about the process a little bit less, and each time it gets better and better.
The keys to making good chili are to keep it simple, take it slow and don’t over do it. I’m always tempted to get freaky with a dish, throw in some cinnamon, double the spiciness, toss in a handful of bacon (actually that generally works…) and I’m usually disappointed with the results. What I never understood was that before you go and make abstract art you’ve got to understand the basics. This chili is a great 101 level dish.
I found this recipe on bigoven.com but it apparently takes its basics from a 1994 Championship Chili from the Tirlingua Chili Cookoff produced by non-other than this man.
Jim Hedrick AKA "Doc J" of Roanoke, Virginia
One look at that picture and you know two things. The early ’90s were just generally fucked up, and that Doc J is a man that knows himself some chili.
The chili itself is a really simple creation. Basically you’re browning some meat, getting the juices going, adding stock and tomato sauce and bringing it to a simmer. From there you’re just adding in chili powder and spices in three stages throughout the cooking time. The magic seems to happen in the way that the spicing of the chili is staggered, kinda like how hops are added to beer multiple times throughout the boiling process. You build a base, then as the initial spices cook down, add more and vary them to make it pop again. The spiciness of the chili really comes more from the cayenne and the chili powder, than from the chilies that the recipe calls for (three serranos are floated in the pot and removed when soft). However, the actual chilies do impart a certain fresh zing that would otherwise be missed. I couldn’t avoid getting crazy with it and I threw a habanero in there for good measure, I couldn’t tell much of a difference but it certainly increased the badass factor.
When the chili is done it comes out flavorful on the front and mildly spicy on the back end. The broth is absolutely wonderfully greasy and satisfying, I could drink it in the mornings instead of coffee. I add beans to the mix because I like it a little heartier and don’t give a shit what Texas thinks of me (or about anything).
Really chili is remarkably hard to fuck up, follow the recipe, insure you don’t go overboard with the salt and spiciness and you’ll be sitting pretty. The big bonus of chili making comes in the days afterward in which you have a legitimate excuse to chili-ize any other dish. When you’re making chili-cheese omelets at 8am or Frito chili pie at 3am (stoned) you’ll thank me.
