You put carrots and celery in chili? 😳
Take that crazed bullshit to someone else's kitchen, please.
This is Essay #125.
Forgive my rant here, but for God’s Sake. Is nothing sacred?
And so begins a discussion about chili. We had an unexpected burst of spring here in the mid Atlantic, but now we’re back to cold, damp days. I suggested a pot of chili and, holy shit… let’s just say a very ‘lively’ exchange took place.
A chili recipe is evidently sacred and very personal. People get downright defensive about this. There are almost as many variations as there are people on this planet. Just Google “Recipes for Chili Soup” and you’ll get 196 MILLION hits. 🤦♀️ To my point, ask The Google for Chicken Noodle Soup recipes and you only get 107 million.
So clearly, chili is important to people. There’s even a National Chili Day. (The 4th Thursday of February, every year. Start planning now.)
Talking to various people, I heard: “Oh, I make really good chili”. “I mix my own spices”. “I put beans in mine.” “My mom puts peas in hers.” “I grow my own chili’s for my recipe.” “My recipe has green peppers.”
There’s chicken chili, turkey chili, venison chili, vegetarian chili, and of course, ground beef. It comes in “colors” like red chili, green chili, white chili.
The debate of Beans or No Beans is seriously fierce.
The adventurous have concocted recipes that are products of feverish, violent dreams. Coconut Chicken Chili and Smoky Peanut Butter Chili.
Gross. 🤮
Someone said their secret ingredient was a splash of balsamic vinegar right before they serve it. WUT?
Then there’s the question... how spicy should it be? I’m convinced that men define their masculinity by how much hot sauce they can handle. Because when you drown your chili (or any other food) in Flamin’ Flatulance or Anal Angst Hot Sauce and you can’t taste the food you put it on, that’s just stupid.
People add special toppings: Cheese (the #1 choice), sour cream or plain yogurt, chopped jalapeños or green onions, avocados, oyster crackers, saltine crackers, tortilla chips, cilantro (the least popular choice, and it should be).
However, I absolutely believe a side of corn bread is appropriate.
On and on and on. But this fervent discussion about how to prepare the perfect batch of chili started when my guy served me his version.
Chunks of chuck roast with big pieces of celery and carrots.
Yeah... no. 🤯
This isn’t beef stew or vegetable soup, OK? Some things are best left the ways the culinary gods intended. It’s like, what are you compensating for? You wanna experiment, buy some tofu.
Chili is a volatile topic. People are passionate about it and it has a definite regional influence. I had no idea there were so many styles.
In Kansas City, they might add a little smoked pork brisket. I guess that sounds reasonable. But only if an ice cold beer goes with it.
The state dish in Texas is… chili. 🤷🏼♀️
And you folks in Cincinnati have my sincere condolences. Allspice? Cloves? Unsweetened chocolate? On spaghetti? Just stop it.
There’s an official organization The International Chili Society. (I’m not making that up). And haven’t we all been to a chili cook off?
Anyway, I’m not gonna break up with him yet, but carrots and celery in chili pushed me close to the edge… and that’s what started this whole essay. 😂
So before grill season starts, make one last pot of chili, OK? Then tell me YOUR secret. I know you have an opinion. Everybody does.
ONE LAST THING: This was meant to be lighthearted and fun, so don’t hate me, ok?
My chili has onions and peppers, but never carrots or celery. It has tomatoes, ground beef, cumin, chili powder, salt and pepper. It usually has beans because I like them. It has to cook for long enough so the flavors blend, but it’s still always better on the second day. As far as heat is concerned, I don’t put too much in, I like it, but it doesn’t like me. I also usually serve it over rice and add cheese. Yum!
P.S. My chili burns on the way in, but not on the way out.