I am the precisely wrong person to write about the 1st Annual Gloria Huang Birthday Chili Cook-Off, considering that hours after my first-prize triumph, I had to be generously driven by the 3rd placeman to the hospital to ease my insufferable stomach flu symptoms. (Full disclosure, none of these chilis cause spontaneous stomach flu, but I would not be surprised if a jealous runner-up had spiked my hotdog with malaise to show me what for. You know who you are. Lefkowitz.) Anyhow, I am now fully recovered and ready to blog about chili.
This bean-and-meat bacchanal happened mostly because our benefactress Miss Huang loves chili. I love chili. It’s the greatest food on earth, and an elegant metaphor for personal philosophy. You start out life eating other peoples’ chili, sampling what each household has to offer. You train yourself to accept spiciness, or you eat chili without. Then you learn, develop your own. We had six positively beautiful chilis, variant in texture, taste, and originality, which were ranked only by the cruel whim of a discerning populace.
A. Jo: I have a hard time with beans–the outer skin throws off a chili for me, and I know that Ima have to pick that crud out of my teeth later on. I made a lady’s chili, light in flavor and spiciness, creamy texture, with turkey meat, corn, and red peppers as the highlight. I suggested and Mr. Q. R. Murphy agreed that perhaps my chili won because it was the sweetest.
B. Cara: This chili was my personal favorite. Reduced to the point of unpourability, it sat upon my hotdog and sagging bun like a great brooding titan, holding up the world on strength alone. Dark and filling, it had a cloying aroma, which according to the lady herself, was cumin. More cumin than imaginable. If you think you’ve used enough cumin, you haven’t.
C. Frazier: Frazier’s chili won the Maker’s Prize, for which there shall certainly be an actual, tangible prize at the 2nd Annual Chili Cook-off. Three meats (chicken, turkey, and bacon) and three beans were lovingly slow-cooked with his favored element: beer. (It’s super effective!)
D. Q. R. Murphy: Mr. Murphy’s chili was the most daring and perhaps the most distinctive of the six. Spurning both spiciness and traditional meats, he opted for a difficult-to-obtain ground venison and used, if I recall correctly, a metric ton of cinnamon. The spice and fragrance of the cinnamon seesawed with the gamey flavor of the deer meat.
E. Ryan: Having stolen my recipe partially from Ryan’s, I feel as if his suffered from placement, especially after the powerhouse of Q. R. Murphy’s. Loaded up with a ton of veggies and beef, the secret ingredient was sofrito, a soup base that is used a lot south of the border. Also distinctive: Ryan’s chili was the most watery.
F. Paul: Paul’s chili was a strong contender for favorite, having ranked both in the maker’s vote and the popular. He took second place by a nose, after the discerning (and tie-breaking) vote of our benefactress pushed his upwards. Paul’s meats were ground chicken and turkey, but the most distinctive facet of his recipe were liquid smoke (which you can find at your local supermarket, also apparently referenced in The Simpsons) and vinegar, which gave it a sour tang that fought off the spicy kick admirably. – Wait, something’s coming in. I’m being reminded that the secret ingredient of Paul’s chili is actually the essence of testicle, as demonstrated in the origin of his recipe.
With ample sampling cups and plastic spoons, Gloria’s guests sampled the chilis at hand and debated the merits of both. Corn: pros and cons. What beans? Would Donnie need a gastric bypass in order to survive another year? But in the end, there could be only one, and girly or not, I won that. See you next year, ladies.
Ingredients:
- 1 white onion
- 1 tbs vegetable oil
- 1 14 oz can chicken broth
- 1 28 oz can diced tomatoes
- 1 tbs sofrito (you can find it in the ethnic food aisle of your crappy grocery store most of the time)
- 1/2 lb of red lentils
- 1 lb of ground turkey (I like 97% fat free for this)
- 1 14 oz can tomato soup (I like Campbell’s!)
- 1 red onion
- 1 green onion
- Jalapeno peppers to your heart’s content
- 1 4 oz can chili peppers
- Frozen corn
- 1 lb ground turkey
- Worchestershire sauce
- Spices: Salt, pepper, chili powder, cumin, cayenne pepper
- Heat up the vegetable oil in the heaviest pot you have over medium heat. You want the heavy pot so you can retain heat in your chili–the more it cooks, the more its components love each other. Who the hell are you to deny love? Throw in your onions and sweat them.
(Sweating, you say? You’re trying to get the moisture out of the onions and soften them up without browning them. You can help this along by tossing some salt in there, but you’re eating chili, dude. You know sodium will propose to you by the end of the night; you don’t need to push your case right just now.) - Toss in your broth, the tomatoes (juice and all) and the sofrito. Pour in a half pound of the lentils. You could probably sub in green lentils, but definitely not French lentils. Red lentils give you the right, yellow-orange color. Bring this mess to a boil, then lower the heat and cover for 30 minutes. The lentils will get nice a mushy: if you can smash some on the side of a pot with a fork, you’re done.
- While this is happening, get a nice non-stick pan and cook your turkey meat. Cook it on medium-high until the last bit of pink vanishes, then get it out of the pan immediately. I like seasoning the meat with your worchestershire sauce and some salt and pepper at this stage. The meat will cook through thoroughly in the stewpot.
- In the hot pan, cook up your veggies. I usually don’t worry about the size of the chunks: I cut them big enough so that someone who doesn’t want them can pick them out. The jalapenos you prepare the way you want. I figure no one wants seeds, but the spiciness will come from the veins. I love the flavor more than the spice, so I usually devein my peppers pretty well, then cut them into chunks small enough so you wouldn’t know they were even there. They impart the flavor without the raw, unbridled terror of the elder gods. Again, cook until they’re just soft–they’ll stew a little as well.
- Your chili base should be done by now. Most of the moisture will have come out of them, so you can just stir around the stuff and break up some of the lentils. Add another cup of chicken broth, or a cup of water and a bouillon cube. You’ll have to strain the base later, but it’ll ease your conscience about the amount of fluids. At this point, I like to use my immersion blender to smooth out the base. To add to the smoothness, throw in your can of tomato soup.
- MONEY SHOT! Toss in all your stuff together, the meat, the veg, and the little can of chilis and the frozen corn.
- Spice that shit. I do salt first, then chili powder, then cumin, then chili powder, then cumin (you have to make sure it’s balanced, so do this as long as you like), then cayenne pepper to taste. I don’t have exact numbers for you, just whatever you like.
- This is the part where you let the chili cook, lid half-on, half-off. Let it chill out for however long you like. You can do as little as thirty minutes, or two hours. But you already thickened up the base, so as long as you get the stuff-to-liquid ratio right (I strained out some of the liquid into the sink), you’re golden. It doesn’t even have to reduce.
- You’re done! Go off and win a fucking chili contest!
Well, there you go. Frazier has promised his chili recipe as well, and with all luck, so will a couple of the other kids. But like I said earlier, chili is a matter of personality and love, so I highly recommend you crafting your own. Good luck!