There are only two things I like about winter, and neither of them are the weather. In fact, the two things I do like are tools people have developed to combat the ridiculous cold our bodies clearly weren't designed to tolerate: hot tea and chili.
The Great Bean DebateYou can hardly find a chili recipe that doesn't start off by reminding you that there are people in the world who consider beans in chili a sacrilege, but then immediately go into their favorite bean to toss in the pot. These supposed 'no bean' people are like the
Flat Earthers to me, everybody's heard of them but who's ever met one? I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could find a website earnestly dedicated to beanless chili, but even the
'never landed on the moon' people have a website, what does that prove?
The one example of beanless chili I've actually seen is at the only good barbecue place I've been to in New York City,
Daisy May's. They have what they call the 'Bowl O' Red' Texas Style Chili, big chunks of meat in some kind of red sauce. It's good, but it lacks enough variety to stand alone. If I want to eat big chunks of meat from Daisy May's, I'm getting the ribs.
Most likely with a side of beans.
So the great bean debate is dumb. Maybe it's alive and well in Texas, but so is the death penalty debate and I don't feel the need to reevaluate my opinion on that subject either.
Mike's Delicious Chili (with beans)2-3 lbs stew beef
6 cups beans (when cooked)
1 large onion
2 large cans of whole stewed tomatoes
Diced green chilies to taste
1 tbl cooking oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Chili powder to taste
Crushed red pepper, garlic powder, paprika and/or cumin can be used to set it off in a different direction
Agreeable accompaniments include:
Corn bread
Sour cream
Shredded cheddar cheese
Diced scallions
This is a simple recipe for a dish that is better in direct relation to your patience with it. You can put everything together in a heated pot for two hours, stir and serve, but if you start early enough in the day you'll have chunks of meat that fall apart in your mouth as quickly as the beans.
I start by dicing the onion and chilies. I use more chilies than most people would want, but this dish is really tolerant of their heat so don't be scared. These go together in the hot oil, sitting on the stove in the big chili pot over a medium-high fire. Stir them occasionally while you prepare the meat.
Cooking beef in New York is complicated because it's all expensive and none of it's very good. The cows just don't live here, so by the time they've made the trip from inland the meat's kind of lost its nerve. It seems more
dead, and while I can't decide why it makes a difference, it does. So after experimenting, now I buy the crappiest (cheapest) cuts of beef I can find and cook them for hours. Works every time.
If you buy the stew beef it should already be cut up into chunks. I usually halve those and toss them in a bowl with the spices until the meat is covered on all sides. Throw that in with the onions and peppers and give it a stir. Turn the heat down to medium and move it around occasionally until the meat chunks are browned on all sides.
You could mix this with almost anything and it would be good:
At this point I open up my cans of tomatoes and dump them into a bowl. Cut the tomatoes up into bite size chunks and set them aside. The tomatoes and juice will go in after the meat is ready, right before the beans.
While the meat is browning you have plenty of time to get the beans ready. I've always used canned beans, five or six cans comprising up to three kinds of beans. I like a kidney and a black for sure. Roman beans are a good number three. The first time I tried them my neighbor Brenda said "For some reason it just tastes more chili-y", a comment that deserved further study. We decided that the Roman beans had a good generic bean flavor that was just what the very specific kidney and black needed for rounding out. I've been using them ever since.
My uncle Tom got me a book for xmas, Serious Pig by John Thorne. One of the chapters is all about the bean obsession in Maine and he spends a great deal of time talking about growing, picking, buying, storing, soaking and cooking beans. He doesn't even entertain the notion of eating canned beans, outside of a couple of small canneries that still do things 'the old fashioned' way. Plus I've always known you're getting 10 servings to the dollar instead of one, so it was obviously time to give them a try.
I soaked 3 cups of dried beans for 20 hours using the Thorne method, which calls for bringing them to a boil for 3 minutes and letting them soak in that water overnight. I drained the beans before I used them, but I kept the water to use later.
By the time the meat is browned on all sides it has released some liquid, so you've got a little something to work with. Add the tomatoes and let this mix heat to a simmer before you add the beans.
With canned beans, there is enough 'sauce' in the can to get you started, but you're still going to want to add water when everything's mixed. With the dried beans I used the soaking water, per Thorne's advice.
He mentions the debate in Maine over whether cooking with the soaking water has any benefits. He decides to go with the water, but I don't like it. Too much bean. I want to taste the beans when I bite them, but cooking the whole dish in bean water overdid it, for me.
At this point you're pretty much done. Add water until the whole mess is a bit thinner than you'd like it to end up, put a lid on it and let it sit at a low simmer for 4-6 hours. Check it every hour or so, give it a stir, add a little more water if it needs it. But other than that, leave it alone. It's just getting better by the minute.
This recipe will make a big batch of chili, so unless you're going to a pot-luck or something, you'll have leftovers. It will get better in the fridge everyday for three days, plateau for one and then start going downhill. If it makes it that far.
A Confession
I used to have a girlfriend who was allergic to all things legume: soy products, nuts and especially beans. A spoonful of kidneys would have made her throat swell until it closed, death at the hands of a delicious little plant.
So on chili night in our house I made a smaller portion of beanless chili, in lieu of a trip to the emergency room. Same thing only I stopped before the beans went in. It was good, but never thick enough and always a little plain. She liked it, but it was eating my beanless that I decided the style didn't offer enough variety, with the Daisy May's version seconding the motion.