This place is in the middle of nowhere, Frankie (even Ray would not find it, a pillaging Viking). Trains take four hours from Copenhagen airport. The nearest airport you can fly to is Billund, from where it's a bus journey to Herning of an hour, or a 20-minute bus ride to another town called Vejle and a train from there.kikibalt wrote:Great post Bennie....
Great article Frank. I love Chili but I am a Green Chile (not chili) lover above all. Below is President Johnson's Chili recipe.kikibalt wrote:Chili: a bowl of red-blooded American heaven
Chili is as personal as a fingerprint and as satisfying as any dish. Break out the pot and the chiles and you've got yourself a winner for Super Bowl.
Chili is a wonderfully simple, no-fuss dish. (Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
By Noelle Carter
February 4, 2010
It's been called both a "bowl of blessedness" and the "soup of the Devil," and it's the stuff of legend.
Frank and Jesse James reputedly downed a few bowls before pulling some of their heists -- and supposedly spared one town because of it. O. Henry spun a short story around it, and Will Rogers allegedly judged a town by its quality. It's said Eleanor Roosevelt tried -- without success -- to get the secrets of one recipe, and that Lyndon B. Johnson remarked that the kind concocted outside his home state of Texas was "usually a weak, apologetic imitation of the real thing." Not even Elizabeth Taylor was immune -- she had whole quarts packed in dry ice and shipped to Rome while she was filming "Cleopatra."
I'm talking about chili, and I've been a devotee of the stuff for years now. There's nothing better when you're entertaining a crowd. And I don't know about you, but I'll be hosting a little football party on Sunday, and I plan to fix a big pot the day before. All I have to do is let it reheat while I entertain and watch the game and, voilà! Dinner is served. No stress.
Chili is a wonderfully simple, no-fuss dish. Meat, generally a somewhat tough cut of beef or pork, is spiced with chiles and stewed -- slowly -- with a few choice ingredients. The results are magical: a richly flavored dish (neither soup nor stew, chili is in a category all its own) that only gets better with time. Fix it a day or two ahead, cook it slowly, then let it sit awhile before serving, giving it proper time to mature and develop. A good chili ages like a fine wine.
That's not to say chili is without its drama. Some people have an almost religious zeal about their chili -- and any deviation from the one true recipe is heretical. Still, the variations are endless. From the classic Texas beef-lover's "bowl of red" to a New Mexican "bowl of green," it's a dish that's arguably been adopted in some way by every state in the Union.
There are all-meat and all-bean varieties, as well as recipes for white chili, "Yankee" chili, wild game, turkey and even seafood chilies. Some chilies are proudly rated for their heat ("four-alarm," "code red"). There are chili societies -- the Chili Appreciation Society International (CASI) and the International Chili Society (ICS) -- and chili cookoffs -- the CASI has held its annual event in Terlingua, Texas, since 1967.
And then there's Cincinnati-style -- as if the chili alone is not enough, this may be served "five-ways" with, count 'em: spaghetti, chili, beans, chopped onion and shredded cheese. Since we're a nation united by variety, move over apple pie -- chili is the true All-American dish.
Colorful history
The earliest chilies were probably borne out of necessity, using some of the oldest tricks in the book: Cooking tough meat until tender and spicing it so it tastes good.
According to the legendary chili historian Frank X. Tolbert, some of the earliest chilies evolved on the trails, from dried beef packed with fat, seasoned with salt and spiced with dried chili peppers. Historian Everett DeGolyer called it a "pemmican of the Southwest."
Eventually, in the 1880s, chili moved to town, as brightly dressed "chili queens" set up their stands at dusk in San Antonio, their colorful lamps leading customers to the wonderful smells wafting from chili that had been simmering all day.
The ICS speculates that, in competing with each other, these chili queens are probably responsible for improving chili and bringing it closer to what we know today.
This classic Texas bowl of red, or something like it, is my personal favorite recipe. This is a meat-lover's chili -- no beans allowed.
I start with dried whole chiles, which I stem, seed and rehydrate. Sure, you can use packaged ground chile, but there will be a night and day difference in flavor.
Like all ground spices, chile powder can oxidize and lose intensity as it sits, making for hollow flavor. Dried whole chiles are rich with flavor and not too much work if you're passionate about the end product.
Meat versus beans
I trim and cube several pounds of chuck roast. You don't have to go for a high-priced cut; choose a cheaper piece that is tough and has a lot of internal fat for the best flavor. You could grind it, but I prefer cubes for their texture and appearance.
Render a pound of bacon in a big heavy pot, preferably cast iron. Leave a little of the fat in the pot, and purée the fried bacon with the rehydrated chiles to make a paste to add to the sauce. Pork is not usually found in Texas red chili, but the bacon helps thicken the sauce and lends so much flavor.
Stew the chili with onion, garlic and fresh-roasted chiles. I also add tomatoes -- that's discouraged in certain schools too, but the acidity helps brighten the chili and focus all those flavors. And I throw in a beer -- a good dark stout -- to lift the flavors a little more.
Cook the chili at a low simmer until the meat is tender, about two hours. It's great served right away, but like most soups and stews, it improves overnight in the fridge.
If you like to add beans, go ahead -- this is your chili. But throw them in toward the end; you don't want to overcook them or they'll turn to mush.
On the other hand, a bean-based chili can be surprisingly rich and full-flavored as well. I sometimes like to make a mixed-bean chili with hominy. It's a colorful dish with a ton of flavor, rich and hearty. And no one would know it's vegetarian unless you mentioned it.
Or you could take the chili method down a different path entirely. My lentil chili draws from a North African inspiration, using Merguez sausage and harissa (a hot, North African chili paste) for flavor. I balance the heat with fresh ginger, lemon, cinnamon and turmeric, and finish the chili with chopped fresh parsley and a sprinkling of cilantro. The flavors kind of explode in the mouth -- bright, fresh notes balanced with subtle but intense heat.
It's not traditional, but it's good. And whatever your preferences, at the end of the day, it's all about good chili, whether you're from Coleman, Texas (reportedly Will Roger's favorite chili town), or Fort Worth (that little town supposedly spared by the James boys).
As Pat Garrett, famous for killing Billy the Kid, supposedly once said of the outlaw, "Anyone that eats chili can't be all bad."
[email protected]
I've used this product before and it really is good.kikibalt wrote:A family business built on chili bricks
Dolores Canning Co. in East L.A. has spiced up the Southland and beyond with its brand of frozen chili.
Some restaurants, such as Philippe the Original, doctor up Dolores Chili Brick to make it their own. (Richard Derk / Los Angeles Times)
February 4, 2010
After polishing off his French dip sandwich at Philippe the Original in downtown Los Angeles, Bert Muñoz redirects his attention to the meaty chili dripping down the sides of a 1950s-era melamine bowl and onto his cafeteria tray.
With quick flicks of his wrist, the chatty 37-year-old co-owner of Dolores Canning Co. scoops up brick-red spoonfuls without spilling even a drop onto his white knit shirt emblazoned with the company logo.
"I'll walk by a hot dog stand and can tell it's our chili just by the smell of it," Muñoz says proudly of his bloodhound-like ability to ferret out the family's product at Los Angeles-area street vendors and restaurants.
Over the years, he has tossed back plenty of bowls straight (competition lingo for all-meat, no-bean chili). Tasting his family's spicy, ground beef-laden specialty is all in a day's work for the sales manager of the East Los Angeles meat processing plant founded more than 50 years ago by his grandfather, Basilio Muñoz.
The brick is born
After building a successful business based on Mexican meats and prepared foods, Basilio and his sons Augustine, Frank and Steve introduced the Dolores Chili Brick in 1973.
"Grandpa started out distributing meat and canning menudo, but his baby project was to make chili that wasn't canned," Bert recalls of the company's gradual shift from canned to frozen products including not only menudo (traditional Mexican hominy, tripe and calf foot stew), but also chili con carne. "With a frozen chili that's concentrated, you get a fresher flavor."
The unusual name, a reference to the chili's shape when packaged and frozen, isn't just a clever marketing gimmick. The term hails from the earliest dehydrated chili "bricks" made by Texas cowboy cooks around 1850. Drying a mixture of pounded beef, chile peppers and salt and shaping it into stackable rectangles that could be easily rehydrated with boiling water came in handy on Midwestern cattle drives and Gold Rush treks to California.
Today, Frank manages the company's finances while Bert and his father, Steve, handle sales and purchasing. Bert's 42-year-old cousin, David, manages factory operations and an aunt, Teresa, is the accountant (Basilio and Augustine, David's father, died several years ago).
The family continues to package raw meat products such as carne asada (flank steak marinated with onions, vinegar and oregano) and produces a handful of jarred pickled products, including jalapeño-laced pork rinds and pig's feet spiced with red chile peppers.
But the chili brick has been the focus of the business for as long as Bert can remember.
"By 5 years old we were in the spice room, 8 to 10 we were working in the kitchen, and by 16 we were driving trucks after school to make deliveries," he says.
Bert and his cousin are the only grandchildren out of 10 to work in the family business. David suspects it has something to do with the rather unglamorous nature of meat processing. " 'Grandpa day care' over Christmas vacation was driving all over Southern California to slaughterhouses."
The chili is named after their grandmother, the woman with movie-star good looks on the company logo. The logo is based on a 1930s carnival painting of Dolores, flirtatiously fanning her face.
Putting it together
The family recipe is a traditional red chili made with paprika and chile pepper-spiked ground beef that is enriched with ground beef hearts to give it a more robust, meaty flavor.
According to the International Chili Society, the industry watchdog that regulates chili competitions, the Muñoz family's all-meat chili would qualify for the competition circuit (chilies with too many added ingredients, such as beans, are frowned upon by chili fanatics).
But Bert and David are less concerned than the ICS about variations to their product.
"People doctor it up with whatever they like, serve it thick or thin . . . add onions, beans or even more beef to make it chunkier," says David unapologetically. "We love to hear about that kind of thing."
A scan of the company website with its somewhat unusual family recipes is evidence of that openness to culinary experimentation. There's chili-sauced spaghetti, chili dip made with copious amounts of cream cheese, even a turkey and chili tamale casserole.
As for the Muñoz family's personal taste, David is a devout Frito pie fan, the classic Texas snack of corn chips piled with chili and shredded cheddar, and Bert concocted his own variation as a student at Cuesta College in San Luis Obispo.
"I used to load up cases of chili for the frat house and we'd eat chili over steamed white rice all week. It's still my favorite," he says.
Even Philippe takes the liberty to make a few tweaks. "I tell customers they can buy the chili from Smart & Final, but they come back asking why it doesn't taste the same," says day manager Elias Barajas, who typically leaves out one important detail: Philippe uses beef stock rather than water to reconstitute the chili, giving it a richer flavor.
Because the product is so widely available at restaurant supply stores, keeping up with customers can be tricky. "Even we don't know how many places use our chili," David says.
That makes it hard to market the company's other products, such as its carne asada, to customers who already use the chili. That's when Bert's nose for sniffing out chili comes in handy.
"I'll sit down at a restaurant or go to a party and I can smell our chili on the stove," he says.
But for this manufacturer, the ultimate badge of honor is kudos from a resident of chili's birthplace.
"A woman in San Antonio orders our chili by mail," he claims. "She says it's better than what she can get in Texas."
[email protected]
Rog, I'm laughing as I read this because my father would always shake his head and ask "Why do they call it Chile? Then he would point to his Jalapenos or long green chilies and say "These are chilies!" I would say "Dad, Chili with an "I" is a dish, Chile with an "E" is the vegetable". He just looked at me like I was nuts.dagosd2000 wrote:A MEAL FIT FOR A REVOLUTIONARY
The chile con carne in the can is OK with me,but my wife doesn't care for it. She can't understand why they call it chile when it's mostly meat with beans. Chiles,to her,is the fruit. So she refers to chile con carne as chile beans. The ground meat is another thing she's not used to. Then it comes out of a can. All those ingredients should be fresh. Replace the ground meat with machaca or carne asada,and then substitute the beans in the can with refried beans and it's more on target.By the way,if she has strips of beef in it,it has to be burn't almost. Then she'll put HER chiles on it,flour or corn tortillas, and then it's ready.
Like I said,I'm used to chile con carne out of the can.I especially like it mixed with hot dogs. I'll even put ketchup on it.I guess I don't have enough of the rancho in me. Of course I won't do that in front of my wife.Then again,she knows I like to eat that way once in a while so she'll make it like that for me.
As I'm eating the chile con carne with hot dogs with the ketchup out of the can,I'll look at my wife eating her stuff.She reminds me of one of Villa's wives.
DDThe Boxrec Food Channel is going full board again!dagosd2000 wrote:
Maria eating her homemade menudo con pata. The bottle on the right is either some of her chile or rocket fuel. It can be used for both .
bennie wrote:
Only in England.
That is a bit strange isn't it? :??bennie wrote:
Only in England.
Heaven Can Wait . . .dagosd2000 wrote:
Family burial plot in Jiquilpan. Maria's mother is resting under those flowers. Her two brothers are behind her mother. To the left is were Maria and I plan to retire. Don't know what inspired me to post this,but there it is.
dagosd2000 wrote:bennie wrote:
Only in England.
Bennie
I was always a fan of Stan Laurel(real name Stan Jefferson),Oliver Hardy's partner in comedy. Of course Stan was from England. In his later years,Stan and his third wife lived in a rented apartment out in Santa Monica(a suburb of LA. along the coast). Stan's phone number was in the book. People would call him up and ask him if he was the REAL Stan Laurel. He'd then invite the askers to his apartment to watch his old movies with his wife.
Stan also had an interest of dropping in on stationary stores,admiring the how the various office supplies were displayed.
Bennie,this strikes me as being very British also. If it is(or if it isn't),I get a good kick out of this.
Stan was from Ulverston in Cumbria (often known as The Lake District) and lived here till he was 20. That photo, by the way, is quintessentially English as we are always mowing the lawn in the summer. It was taken in Southport as I staggered somewhat drunkenly down a road.dagosd2000 wrote:bennie wrote:
Only in England.
Bennie
I was always a fan of Stan Laurel(real name Stan Jefferson),Oliver Hardy's partner in comedy. Of course Stan was from England. In his later years,Stan and his third wife lived in a rented apartment out in Santa Monica(a suburb of LA. along the coast). Stan's phone number was in the book. People would call him up and ask him if he was the REAL Stan Laurel. He'd then invite the askers to his apartment to watch his old movies with his wife.
Stan also had an interest of dropping in on stationary stores,admiring the how the various office supplies were displayed.
Bennie,this strikes me as being very British also. If it is(or if it isn't),I get a good kick out of this.
Randy, what're you doing to me!!....Randyman wrote:This is for Frank
Fishermens Breakfast Fish Recipe
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9BYyXIo ... div-f-1-HM
I always wanted to ask someone about the decision of a draw in the Sanchez fight but you saw the fight now I know thx Frank.kikibalt wrote:D,
There was a fighter out of T.J that was real good, his name is Juan Escobar, he fought in the 1970's-80's and maybe into the 90's.
He fought a draw with the great Salvador Sanchez at the Olympic, a fight I seen live, btw I though Escobar won, Escobar was good, but he was never able to rise to the level that was expected of him, in 1983 my son Frankie fought him at the Olympic, he gave Frankie a spanking, a spanking? no an ass whipping! for four rounds, then he ran out of gas, Frankie came from behind and won scoring a knock down in the tenth rounDid you ever seen Escobar fight?
