Saturday, January 5, 2013

Recipe break. Chili.

That being said, this is how I generally make chili.

  Around 1.5 lbs. ground meat.  I like to use ground sirloin (the 90/10 stuff) because the texture's nice and crumbly.  Feel free to mix it up; my last batch included six strips of bacon that were going to go south in a couple of days.
  Some worcestershire sauce.  Some is a technical term.
  Some soy sauce.  See above.
  An onion, diced.  The size and variety of the onion should depend on whatever the balls you have lying around.
  Between 1 and 40 cloves of garlic, peeled, smashed and chopped.  I set the limit at 40 because unless you're using the two-bowl technique, madness begins to set in after peeling your 37th clove of garlic.
  Whatever other vegetation you have lying around, diced.  Bell peppers, chiles, whatever.  Knock yourself out.
  Beer.  Tomatoes have flavonoids that dissolve in water, fat, and alcohol, so don't skimp.
  One 28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes.  Muir Glen makes a really nice fire-roasted variety, but I'll go San Marzano if I can find it.  Because San Marzano tomatoes are fucking delicious.
  A splorch of molasses.  Usually however much comes out before you can stop it from pouring.
  Chili powder.  Shocking, I know.  I generally use chipotle here, but anything from ancho to generic'll do.
  Oregano, cumin, and paprika.  Really, these are optional, but this herb and these spices in particular work really well in chili.  If you have it, go smoked on the paprika.  If you don't, throw out your regular paprika and get your ass to the store for some smoked.
  Whatever other spices you want.  I like to use coriander and cardamom because I don't use them in much else, and I kind of want to get rid of them.
  Cocoa powder.  Yeah, I said it.
  One 15.5 oz. can of beans, drained and rinsed.  Red kidney, cannelini, black, pinto, whatever floats your boat.


1. In a pot big enough to hold the chili (and really, if you can't eye that kind of thing up, just go with the first pot in your set that has handles on both sides), brown the meat.  A lot of recipes say work in batches to get some nice browning, but unless I'm really trying to impress someone, I've generally found it isn't worth the time.  If working with a wooden spoon is giving you agita, try using a potato masher.
2. Dump the meat into a bowl, released juices and fat and all.  Add worchestershire and soy sauces until it's tasty enough to eat with a spoon.  Not a fork.  A spoon.
3. Bring the pot back up to heat and sweat the onions, garlic, and spare vegetation.  Note that I said sweat, not burn.  Keep 'em moving.
4. The liquid released from the onions should have been enough to dig up any brown bits left behind from the meat (if any), but just in case, hit the pot with a little beer to deglaze.  If you don't know what deglaze means, bring it to a boil and scrape the bottom and sides with whatever utensil you're using until nothing's sticking anymore.  It's essentially the same thing.
5. Dump in the tomatoes.  Not literally, as it'll glomp out and splatter all over the place if you do it fast enough.  Trust me.  Bring it back up to a simmer.
6. Add the molasses, herbs, spices, whatever.  Gun to my head, I'd say 2 tbsp. chili powder and 1 tbsp. of the rest to start (I just dump the spices into my cupped hand to eyeball it), then add 1 tsp. each in rotation until you get the flavor you're looking for.  If you want more heat, throw in whatever you've got in the door of your fridge - Tabasco, Frank's Red Hot, and sriracha all work well.  If it gets too hot, hit it with a little more molasses to mellow it out.
7. By the time you're done with 6, everything should have simmered long enough to be soft and stick-blendable if you're into that sort of thing.  If you like your chili chunky (or you don't have a stick blender), skip this step.
8. Add the meat and beans back into the pot.  If there isn't enough gravy, add beer until there is.  Drink whatever's left.
9. Bring to a simmer and hold for however long you feel like it.  Truth is, all the flavors should meld enough to be tasty in about 20 minutes, but I just let it go until I have to go to bed so I can keep picking at it.

Note: like most (if not all) things that involve tomato, the chili will taste even better the next day.  I can't tell you the exact science of it, but it has to do with the acids and glutamates inherent in that magical fruit going to town on everyone at the party.

Enjoy, kids.  A demain.

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