[M. Murcek] Yes. Long winded and not entirely PC. Prompted by discussion with Besoeker in the comments about keeping sugar out of food. But I share when I can...
Ok, let’s start here. What you’re eatin’ is chili. One of the things that’s in it ’r called chiles. There’s also somethin’ called chillis, over in India, but you got to get on a boat to get to them, and we just ain’t doin’ that. Don’t mix these up in conversation, you’ll just be makin’ people think yer ignorant, and we know you ain’t that, or you wouldn’t be here now, eatin’ chili.
This here is Basic Texas Red chili, so called ’cause we aimed to use as few ingredients as we felt were necessary. First, there’s pureed New Mexico chiles, which we got already prepared from the dry goods man in Old El Paso. They’re where the Red comes from. Over in New Mexico, that’s it, that and whatever spices the cook cares to add — or thinks he can get away with — is considered chili. It can actually be quite good. I think it’s just ’cause New Mexico chuck wagon cooks are sorta’ lazy. Must be those mountains they got to go up ’n’ down. We went on and added Spanish onion, green chiles, chili powder, cumin, and of course, beef, lots and lots of beef. Late in the game, we decided some pasilla peppers were also in order.
Now, in Texas, the vast majority of folks - you can never say "everybody" in such a big place - consider beans in the chili a hangin’ offense. In places where an argument may get settled with a brandin’ iron, a six-shooter, or a rope, it’s best to leave the beans at home, or at least not in the chili.
We shall reserve discussion of what’s in store for those using green bell pepper, brown sugar, ground meat, or attempting to pass off that "cincinnati style" stuff as chili for a time when the women and children are out of earshot. Spaghetti? Well, I never...
Not everyone can take the heat, and out here there’s no kitchen to get out of, so we have made an arrangement intended to maximize everyone’s satisfaction — how’s that fer sum fancy words? We have some friends back East, the Weaver family at Meadowview Farm, in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania. These nice folks grow more than 200 varieties of hot chiles, 75 some types of "heirloom" tomatoes, and this old wagon boss personally never even knew that there’s at least 25 kinds of eggplant, but they grow ’em.
Anyways, we get a bunch of these different hot chiles, dry ’em out, grind ’em and invite the brave — or foolish — to add some of ’em to their bowl of red. We call this mixture Neutron Powder, in honor of some of that egghead stuff they do over at Los Alamos and Sandia. It ain’t quite radioactive, but you’d be advised to take care. A little goes a l-o-n-g way. Enter this high-stakes game at your own risk!
We have now finished jawin’ about what is and ain’t in a batch of chili.
We let this all cook slow for at least six hours. Beef cattle are more intelligent beasts than most folks suspect, but they are stubborn critters, and six hours cooks that stubbornness right out of ’em. Of course, six hours of cookin’ means the chuck wagon crew will have a long, busy day. To make this little ’ol batch, we had to cut up 18 pounds of tip roast into all them bite-size pieces. Many’s the wagon boss who’s happy to have a young Mexican or Indian boy or gal to do all that cuttin’. Some of these youngsters are so good with a knife that you gotta keep a extra close eye on ’em when the ain’t actually workin’. If they got to cut up a whole cow, well, they’ll be workin’ for quite a while.
Once all that beef is cut up, it goes with all the other ingredients into the pot and onto the fire — or into the crock pot, if you will. At this point, we need only be sure not to burn it. Not only will burnin’ it make the cowboys mad at the end of the day, but will also be a waste of all our hard work, so we’ll watch, and stir it on sparin’ occasion.
Now, the wagon boss has six hours to mess with. Some are known to practice fast shufflin’, bottom dealin’, quick drawin’, six shooter twirlin’, knot tyin’, knife throwin’ or lyin’. Then there’s also takin’ a spell for a siesta in the shade under the chuck wagon. Last one’s been known to be a favorite of mine. I already figgered out how to do all that other stuff. Don’t be tryin’ to sneak up, my quick drawin’s pretty good.
Bud’s Chili
2 jars salsa
1 bottle chili powder
1-2 tablespoons cumin
2-4 cans chopped green chilis
½ - 1 medium white onion, diced
2 cans pinto or chili beans, drained and rinsed
5 lb. Meat — your choice, see below
Combine in crock-pot as follows:
2 jars salsa, add chili powder (use hot Mexican chili powder if additional zip is needed), cumin, chopped green chilis and diced white onion (try red onion or Vidalia for a difference) turn crock pot on high and drain, rinse and add beans (or leave ’em out if you don’t like beans)
The meat is where the sky’s the limit. My fans say that the stewing beef I use is their favorite. Cut each piece of stewing beef up into 5-6 smaller pieces. This is the only labor-intensive part of the recipe. You can also substitute cubed pork, or a combination of cubed meat and ground meat, all ground meat or even turkey! (If you use turkey, consider using 1 jar green salsa and one jar turkey gravy in place of the regular salsa. You can also add some baker’s chocolate to the turkey chili for something really different)
Add the meat directly to the pot (no browning) Leave on high until uniform red color begins to appear, then cut back to auto-shift (if using a highly-recommended Hamilton Beach crock-pot) or low, otherwise. Cook about 6 hours from time the meat is added (somewhat less for turkey). Refrigerate overnight, then skim away the fat, which will crust up on top. Reheat and eat!
Additional serving suggestions: Over macaroni or rice; wrap in a tortilla (good but sloppy); layer with tortillas in a baking dish and bake to make Mexican lasagna; put on a pizza shell and bake in oven or on closed grill with cheese to make chili pizza.
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