Mensam Mundum — World Table: Chili — a bowl of controversy
- Esther Oertel
- Posted On
Who would’ve thought that chili — that blessed concoction that warms the tummy and the heart — would be controversial? But it is.
To bean or not to bean? Are tomatoes acceptable or anathema? Just when and how did it originate? These questions cause consternation and disagreement among many chili aficionados.
But why in the world am I even talking about chili in the middle of a heat wave? Well, because — dads!
Since today is Father’s Day, let’s dig into a figurative bowl of what is, at least to me, one of the most quintessential dad foods on the planet.
I also happen to be one of those people who thinks a good bowl of chili is comforting, soulful and delicious whatever the season.
Some people are chili purists, while others like to experiment. Purists believe chili shouldn’t include much beyond meat, hot chili peppers and spices. (Certainly not beans!)
Those who experiment add all kinds of things to their chili, including some that don’t sound too unusual (molasses, beer or coffee, for example), and some that I find truly unexpected (like peanuts, artichoke hearts or bamboo shoots).
A sharp divide exists in the chili world related to beans, specifically whether or not adding them prevents it from being true chili.
Texas journalist and chili cook Wick Fowler said (rather strongly), “If you know beans about chili, you know that chili has no beans!”
This isn’t surprising coming from a Texan, where in 1977 the legislature voted to make beanless chili, known there as a “bowl of red,” its official state dish. The proclamation states that “the only real ‘bowl of red’ is that prepared by Texans.”
The International Chili Society, which oversees roughly 150 chili cook-offs each year, allows the use of beans and other nontraditional ingredients in one of the four categories of chili in its contests. Hopefully, that settles it: chili can be called chili even with beans.
Personally, I like beans in my chili. In fact, if not for beans, I couldn’t make chili at all since I favor vegetarian versions over meat-laden ones.
Kassie Koontz, who along with husband Reuben own and operate the Koontz Mercantile in Middletown, agrees that beans belong in chili, at least in her version.
Koontz is the current champion of the annual Middletown Senior Center chili cook-off. She also won second- and third-place ribbons in the two contests before that.
She favors a mixture of three types of beans: black, red and white. The white beans cook down and dissolve like a thickening agent, while the other two, both heartier, remain intact, adding texture.
Koontz recommends using the freshest meat possible as it makes a big difference in flavor. She grinds her own from the steer they buy each year through the high school’s FFA chapter.
Koontz shared another secret: a surprise ingredient in her chili is brown sugar. Its sweetness balances the heat that comes from chili peppers and it also serves to thicken the chili. Between the white beans and brown sugar, there’s no need to use a thickener like masa flour.
Though they grow chili peppers in their home garden, they’re not ready by the time the cook-off rolls around in May, so she uses a combination of whatever chili peppers look good at the local market, Hardester’s.
The pandemic prevented the senior center from holding its annual contest this year and in 2020. We all hope it will be back in 2022.
Beef is the meat of choice for most chilis, but as you might expect, chili has been made with almost everything — venison, buffalo, pork, chicken, spicy sausage, goat, and even skunk, jack rabbit and rattlesnake.
Outback chili in Australia is made with kangaroo, in Norway chili is made with reindeer and in Alaska, moose is a favorite.
As to the history of chili, no one is entirely sure exactly how and in what form it originated. There are almost a dozen theories that attempt to answer that question. I’ll throw out a few just for fun and you can determine what you think is most plausible.
Some say the dish hails from Mexico. In a 1568 publication, “The True History of the Conquest of New Spain,” author Bernal Diaz del Castillo describes an Aztec stew made from the remains of sacrificed conquistadors, hot peppers, wild tomatoes and oregano.
Personally, I really hope chili didn’t originate that way.
Another tale tells of a 17th century Spanish nun, Sister Mary of Agreda, whose spirit, the story goes, was transported from Spain to Texas by angels while her body was in a trance. While there, she preached to the Jumano Indians and in exchange was given a recipe for a chili-like stew made from venison or antelope, onions, tomatoes and chili peppers. The recipe, which Sister Mary recorded, was the first written version of chili con carne.
Others cite the lavenderas, or washerwomen, who served the Mexican Army in the 1830s and 40s, as the first chili makers.
Chuckwagon cooks on the cattle trails of the American West are also credited. These “cooks on the go” pounded dried beef, fat and chili peppers into easily transportable bricks which were reconstituted in boiling water over campfires for hardworking cowboys.
Or, as another story goes, was chili brought to Texas in the early 18th century by transplants from the Canary Islands?
In this scenario, King Philip V of Spain hoped to thwart French settlers from expanding westward from Louisiana by sending Canary Islanders to settle in San Antonio. Apparently, Canarians added copious amounts of cumin, a key ingredient in today’s chilis, to their slow-simmered stews which also included meat, chili peppers, garlic and wild onions.
It’s possible that the spicy stews of the Canary Islanders influenced the 19th century “Chili Queens,” who famously sold chili in San Antonio’s Military Square to passersby for decades, eventually leading to the wide popularity of the dish.
To complicate the question of chili’s origin even more, Rudy Valdez, a member of Colorado’s Ute Indian tribe, won the world chili championship in 1976 with a native recipe he claimed dated back 2,000 years.
Perhaps versions of chili developed in a variety of places at different times.
However it happened, one thing’s for certain — chili continues to evolve and grow thanks to cooks who experiment with techniques and ingredients. At the same time, purists ensure that their time-honored version of chili remains the same.
I’m pleased to offer a recipe today from the Six Sigma Ranch and Winery of Lower Lake, which, in addition to wine, sells ranch-raised meats at their tasting room.
Ranch manager Christian Ahlmann tells me they currently have grass-fed ground beef available for making this chili.
The recipe was developed by their tasting room manager, Mr. T, who also happens to be a great chef.
Six Sigma Chili from Mr. T’s Kitchen
Ingredients
1 pound Six Sigma ground beef
1 pound Six Sigma bacon ends
5 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 large onion, diced, and divided in half
2 ounces tomato paste
1 can crushed tomatoes
2 cans red kidney beans
2 cans cannellini beans
Salt and pepper to taste
Cumin, chili powder, cayenne pepper and paprika to taste
Optional toppings: cheese, jalapeño and sour cream
Directions
Brown chopped bacon ends in a large pot. Remove when crispy.
Remove half of the bacon fat and cook ground beef in the remaining fat.
Move the browned beef to one side of the pan and add garlic and half of the onion to the other side. (Reserve the other half of the onion for topping.) Cook until the onion is translucent.
Add browned bacon, tomato paste and crushed tomatoes to the pot. Stir until incorporated.
Drain beans and add to pot. Bring to a boil and reduce heat.
Season to taste. (Don’t be shy with spices — remember, salt is your best friend until it’s your worst enemy.)
Cook for one hour.
Spoon into bowls, add toppings and enjoy!
Recipe by Tameron Detrinidad (Mr. T).
Esther Oertel is a writer and passionate home cook from a family of chefs. She grew up in a restaurant, where she began creating recipes from a young age. She’s taught culinary classes in a variety of venues in Lake County and previously wrote “The Veggie Girl” column for Lake County News. Most recently she’s taught culinary classes at Sur La Table in Santa Rosa. She lives in Middletown, California.