I don’t think I had ever tried homemade chili before. Chili wasn’t in my mom’s or grandmother’s wheelhouse of family dinners. And surely none of my friends’ moms were making it either. The only context I’d had it in was probably in a burger or on top of fries. Original Tommy’s chili burgers and chili cheese fries. Or the chili burger at Island’s. Or the chili cheese fries at Del Taco–I have no idea if they’re still good, but way back when, those were on regular rotation. Safe to say, my exposure to chili was pretty junky and definitely not homemade.
Then I had this coworker who made it once and brought it in to share with everyone. It was an instant hit and she got constant requests to make it. She had some secret dried chili powder from someone’s homegrown peppers that made the chili so flavorful and just the right bit of spicy. Sometimes she made it with a little extra heat and it was fun to see who in the office could handle it.
I so looked forward to those planned chili lunches that I started making jalapeño cheddar cornbread muffins to accompany the main event. It became a thing. The chili, the cornbread, the fixings. After several times eating that chili, I realized I didn’t like depending on someone else to enjoy it. Something inside clicked into another gear.
There are certain dishes that ignite this secret internal contest, like when you think to yourself, “Hey, I’m pretty sure I can make this.” In my case (a lot of the time), my inner cheerleader adds, “And I can make it even better.” Even though I’ve thought this way for years, I’ve never articulated it until just now writing this, so I don’t know if it’s just me, but I guess it’s part of being a food lover and considering cooking a sport of sorts. This chili was one of those dishes. I challenged myself to make it, and make it better.
The verdict: I make a mean chili. I can’t say if it’s better, but my husband thinks so, even though that’s his job. Now, I don’t have some mythical wizard to make me that secret chili powder, but given the easily attainable ingredients in this recipe, the end result is every bit as comforting and craveable as the original. The heat level is super adaptable for those who are heat-adverse (hi, husband) and the core flavor is warm, deep, and a bit zingy. Now I’m the one getting requests to whip up a big pot of chili with my cornbread muffins, and I’m happy to oblige.
This chili contest recently came full-circle in the form of some healthy sibling rivalry when my little (grown) brother made his own version. Some say it might even be better than mine. I guess little bro had that same internal dialogue, cuz his chili is pretty mean too. I have to say I’m proud. And this means we get to have chili more often. Not a bad deal.
