It has taken me a while to write this entry because I have struggled to find the words to do justice to genuine Texas Chili. Eating a bowl of Red is a mystical experience, defying rational explanation or description. A good bowl of Red touches you deep inside, satisfying not just a hunger in your belly but a longing in your soul, and burns brightly within you, like a fire in your bones, or your gut, depending on you constitution.
"Chili heads" are passionate about Texas Chili. Just do a search on the Internet and see what turns up. My addiction to chili formed early in life and I have never recovered. While I am not a "Chili head," I am passionate about the dish and respect others who are as well. One man said that the cook at the diner where he bought chili believed that every pot of chili had a soul. Lyndon Johnson once said, "Chili concocted outside of Texas is usually a weak, apologetic imitation of the real thing." Legendary frontiersman Kit Carson's alleged last words were, "I wish I had time for just one more bowl of chili." God rest his soul.
For the informed reader of chili lore, I fall squarely into the Frank X. Tolbert camp of chili appreciation and understanding. Tolbert was a historian and columnist for the Dallas Morning News and co-founder of the annual chili cook-off held at Terlingua, just outside of Big Bend. Tolbert's book A Bowl of Red should be required reading in all Texas schools and necessary to obtain a Texas driver's license.
Tolbert describes how records show that in the 1840s Texans made a brick to carry with them out on the range, a brick made of dried beef, beef fat, dried chili peppers and salt. They would boil the brick in a pot with water and eat the results. Variations on this idea took root in various cattle drives and on every cattle ranch scattered across Texas. In the 1950s Tolbert interviewed the seven surviving Civil War veterans from Texas, one being 116, and all but one claimed to be great lovers of Texas Chili. All agreed that their first experience with chili con carne, or Texas Red as we know it today, was in San Antonio in the 1880s, served up in small cafes and by roadside vendors. The thing to do was to go to San Antonio on a Saturday night and eat a bowl of Red. After the 1880s, the Chili Queens of San Antonio began to appear in the market squares, including Alamo Square, where they sold bowls of Red. They flourished until 1943 when city health regulations made it too difficult for them to sell their wares.
I would give you a recipe for Texas Red, but there are so many out there that you can easily find one you like. Mine changes often, depending on the mood and the availability of ingredients. I use stew meat cut in small pieces, not ground beef. I also buy chile pods and toast and grind them myself. Texas Chili does not contain vegetables beyond the chile pods, garlic cloves and comino, or cumin that has been toasted and ground. Let's be clear: no beans, no tomatoes, no green peppers, absolutely no corn. If you enjoy all those ingredients, put them in, call it stew, and enjoy!
If you have to buy a mix to make chili, I recommend Wick Fowler's 5 Alarm Chili mix. Wick is a past champion at the Terlingua cook-off.
So what about you? Are you a "chili head?" Do you have a favorite, sacred recipe for Red?
"Chili heads" are passionate about Texas Chili. Just do a search on the Internet and see what turns up. My addiction to chili formed early in life and I have never recovered. While I am not a "Chili head," I am passionate about the dish and respect others who are as well. One man said that the cook at the diner where he bought chili believed that every pot of chili had a soul. Lyndon Johnson once said, "Chili concocted outside of Texas is usually a weak, apologetic imitation of the real thing." Legendary frontiersman Kit Carson's alleged last words were, "I wish I had time for just one more bowl of chili." God rest his soul.
For the informed reader of chili lore, I fall squarely into the Frank X. Tolbert camp of chili appreciation and understanding. Tolbert was a historian and columnist for the Dallas Morning News and co-founder of the annual chili cook-off held at Terlingua, just outside of Big Bend. Tolbert's book A Bowl of Red should be required reading in all Texas schools and necessary to obtain a Texas driver's license.
Tolbert describes how records show that in the 1840s Texans made a brick to carry with them out on the range, a brick made of dried beef, beef fat, dried chili peppers and salt. They would boil the brick in a pot with water and eat the results. Variations on this idea took root in various cattle drives and on every cattle ranch scattered across Texas. In the 1950s Tolbert interviewed the seven surviving Civil War veterans from Texas, one being 116, and all but one claimed to be great lovers of Texas Chili. All agreed that their first experience with chili con carne, or Texas Red as we know it today, was in San Antonio in the 1880s, served up in small cafes and by roadside vendors. The thing to do was to go to San Antonio on a Saturday night and eat a bowl of Red. After the 1880s, the Chili Queens of San Antonio began to appear in the market squares, including Alamo Square, where they sold bowls of Red. They flourished until 1943 when city health regulations made it too difficult for them to sell their wares.
I would give you a recipe for Texas Red, but there are so many out there that you can easily find one you like. Mine changes often, depending on the mood and the availability of ingredients. I use stew meat cut in small pieces, not ground beef. I also buy chile pods and toast and grind them myself. Texas Chili does not contain vegetables beyond the chile pods, garlic cloves and comino, or cumin that has been toasted and ground. Let's be clear: no beans, no tomatoes, no green peppers, absolutely no corn. If you enjoy all those ingredients, put them in, call it stew, and enjoy!
If you have to buy a mix to make chili, I recommend Wick Fowler's 5 Alarm Chili mix. Wick is a past champion at the Terlingua cook-off.
So what about you? Are you a "chili head?" Do you have a favorite, sacred recipe for Red?
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