Matt Shelley cornered me by the coffee dispenser on Tuesday, waving an empty sign-up sheet for the office chili cook-off and asking, in a surprisingly quiet yet menacing way, why I hadn’t signed up yet.
“It’s ship week,” I replied in a slight panic. Others may call it deadline week, or 100 percent week, but D people call it ship week. As if we’re setting sail. Or, more appropriately, hunkering down in a submarine that won’t come up for air until Wick Allison signs off on the cover.
“But you can cook it tonight,” he said. “Chili is always better after it sits.” So, under duress, I signed my name. Matt does take the employee photos, after all. And I need a retake.
On my way home, I had a decision to make: stop at the Thumb where I knew I could get some good chuck roast, possibly even Certified Angus Beef, or at my favorite supermarket, El Rio Grande, at the corner of Davis and Hampton. The chuck options at the latter would be limited (their forte is pork shoulder), but they’d have everything else for a quarter of the price. Then, standing at the 7-Eleven at Singleton and Hampton, filling up my car and handing a $5 bill to a man who asked for it, I saw the spotlit green parrot like a beacon. The new (ish?) Fiesta that had replaced the horrible Minyard that always smelled of rotten milk. A chili miracle.
It was like they knew I was coming. There was a giant display of canned whole tomatoes. Check. A giant bin of Jiffy cornbread muffin mix. Check. A stack of packaged chuck roast and an adorable young man who offered to get more from the back if I needed it. Double check. Pimento stuffed olives, beef stock, and extra chile powder. Triple check.
I headed home, put on some chili-making jams (Wilco and Billy Brag doing Guthrie covers, of course), and got to work. Three hours later, I was done.
On Thursday, I schlepped my crockpot up to the office and set it down among 10 or so others. I had low expectations. I had taken a big risk—my chili included two ingredients that most people hate. But it turns out that D employees aren’t all that different from toddlers. If they don’t know what’s in it, they love it.
BraBurner Chili
Adapted from a 1992 Gourmet magazine recipe.
2 large onions, chopped
6 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/3 cup chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground chipotle
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
4 pounds boneless beef chuck, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 cups water
2 cups beef broth
2 28-ounce cans of diced tomatoes, including the juice
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
3/4 cup raisins
1/2 cup pimiento-stuffed green olives, sliced
1/4 cup pickled jalapeños, diced
1 19-ounce can (about 2 cups) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
In a large heavy-bottomed pot, cook the onions and the garlic in the olive oil over moderate heat until the onions are softened. Add the chili powder and spices and cook, stirring, for a minute or two. Add the beef, water, broth, tomatoes, and the salt and simmer the mixture, uncovered, for 1 1/2 hours. Add water as necessary to keep the beef covered. Add the raisins, olives, and jalapeños and simmer for another hour or until the beef is tender. Stir in the beans and heat through. Serve, and gloat.
