Of course, I'm not going to tell you how to cook a hotdog. Any dummy can do that and there are a thousand different ways to do it. I'm going to tell you how to buy the most awesome hotdogs EVER. Sorry to my out of town readers. My advice is to find a local source for these kinds of dogs..
One of the many great things I gained in marrying well was an instant relationship with the family butcher.
My mother-in-law introduced me to Rudolph's Meat Market in downtown Dallas a few years into the marriage. For some reason that I forget there was a meat shortage one year and grocery store cases were empty of fresh meat. Some of them had even taken to filling the chests with canned hams and tuna. I am not kidding. I saw this with my own eyes.
Blanche Els was never one to take any kind of restriction given her. She was the kind of woman who lit a cigarette on the way home from lung cancer surgery. So, when the meat section at the grocery stores emptied out she packed me up and took me to Rudolph's.
They had all the standard meat you see in any butcher shop. But they also made their own hotdogs. The kind that are connected to each other by the casing. Those long strings of hot dogs. Beaven grew up on them and I always try to have them at those special hotdog occasions like July 4th.
I'm sure their regular meat was a cut above the rest but the location wasn't convenient and I've never been that picky so I only patronized Rudolph's when I needed hot dogs. One visit I was checking out and realized I had left my checkbook at home. The guy waiting on me asked my name and was going to set the package aside for me until I returned. When I told him "Els" it was like the massive doors to the City of Oz had flung open to me. "Els?", he asked, "Are you from the Els family?" Only a few sentences later I had my package in hand and was trusted enough to take the hot dogs with me until I returned with the money. Say what you like about girl power but it still pays to take your husband's last name sometimes.
I digress. The point of the story is this: Rudolph's Meat Market in downtown Dallas, Deep Elm, to be exact, is the only place I've ever seen who makes them strung together by the casing. They are seasoned a bit more and are leaner. My pickest eater, the granddaughter who will not allow her cheese to touch her meat patty, loves Rudolph's hotdogs. You have time to get some before July 4th. Go ahead and get them now. They don't have the preservatives needed to keep them in the fridge very long. Either eat them within a couple of days or freeze them.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Afternoon Tea with Scones
My daughters and I are usually very casual about our food. (Remind me to tell you about Pig Night sometime.) But we do enjoy a good high tea when we get a chance. There's something about the enforced civility that makes us feel very ladylike even if it's for an hour or so. An hour is about the longest we're able to act civilized. We've been known to go longer but it usually ends up with drama later.
And, believe it or not, we've been to a lot of teas in the last few years: the Arboretum, the Adolphus Hotel in downtown Dallas (twice, in fact) and a couple of other places whose name I forget. We're always on the lookout for afternoon tea. Elizabeth and I even had high tea at Harrod's in London. Yeah. Who would have ever thought I would enjoy high tea? I'm as surprised as the rest of you.
The custom of afternoon tea was started by the Duchess of Bedford around 1840 because she was getting hungry between lunch and dinner. So it's really Glorified Snack Time. Coincidently, a few years earlier, the Earl of Sandwich had invented the idea of putting stuff between slices of bread. I swear I am not making this up-- Google it yourself. So a High Tea will always have sandwiches, maybe a salad or quiche, along with some scones and maybe some kind of small dessert. A more informal Cream Tea is just tea with scones and clotted cream.
Now I know the term 'clotted' might sound nasty but it's not. The best way to describe clotted cream is that it's kind of in between cream and butter. It's not sour and it's not cream gone bad. You could use plain old butter in its place or even whipped cream beaten just a hair beyond whipped. (Butter is, after all, nothing more than heavy cream whipped, churned, shaken, or whatever term you want to use, until it becomes the butter we are accustomed to. I think we've all had the experience in third grade of watching this process by taking turns shaking a jar full of cream until it became butter. I think the teachers decided it was a good way to turn third graders' engergies into a constructive outlet.)
We had a new bistro open in my sleepy little town of Winnsboro a few weeks ago. And they offer several levels of tea service from a simple cream tea to high tea. Oh, and tea. Yeah...tea. It turns out you gotta drink a lot of tea when you have tea.
There is much ceremony around a tea service. The owner of the Winnsboro Bistro is from England and has the accent to prove it. Savor that tiny factoid a while...remembering that our closest Walmart usually carries the distinct aroma of cow manure in their parking lot. Can you picture a transplant from the mother country in our humble little town?
I've been to the Bistro several times by now and love to take city friends with me, maybe to prove that we may live in the sticks but we can eat in Europe, if only vicariously. One of the highlights of the tea is when Peter, the Bistro owner, tells the story of why the English put milk in their cream.
You put the milk in first. Then add the tea. He says the first tea cups didn't have handles and were of poor quality. This left them liable to break when the scalding hot tea hit the cold cup, leaving your hand and lap burned. By putting milk in the cup first, the hot tea never hit the cheap china; it would hit the milk first and be immediately cooled just a bit-- saving the cup from breaking. Peter also gives a warning to never accept tea that turned gray when the milk was added. 'Send it back!" he told us with great drama, "it is inferior tea." A proper tea should be tan or light brown.
Actually, if the truth be told, my daughters and I don't really get into the whole tea part tea so much. It's really the scones and clotted cream we're after.
My belated Mothers Day gift was High Tea at the Bistro last Saturday. This set us in search of a good scones recipe and Emily found one somewhere online. She made the most delicious scones I've ever had, including Harrod's in London. High tea is all about the scones. Maybe they should call it Scone Tea.
And, believe it or not, we've been to a lot of teas in the last few years: the Arboretum, the Adolphus Hotel in downtown Dallas (twice, in fact) and a couple of other places whose name I forget. We're always on the lookout for afternoon tea. Elizabeth and I even had high tea at Harrod's in London. Yeah. Who would have ever thought I would enjoy high tea? I'm as surprised as the rest of you.
The custom of afternoon tea was started by the Duchess of Bedford around 1840 because she was getting hungry between lunch and dinner. So it's really Glorified Snack Time. Coincidently, a few years earlier, the Earl of Sandwich had invented the idea of putting stuff between slices of bread. I swear I am not making this up-- Google it yourself. So a High Tea will always have sandwiches, maybe a salad or quiche, along with some scones and maybe some kind of small dessert. A more informal Cream Tea is just tea with scones and clotted cream.
Now I know the term 'clotted' might sound nasty but it's not. The best way to describe clotted cream is that it's kind of in between cream and butter. It's not sour and it's not cream gone bad. You could use plain old butter in its place or even whipped cream beaten just a hair beyond whipped. (Butter is, after all, nothing more than heavy cream whipped, churned, shaken, or whatever term you want to use, until it becomes the butter we are accustomed to. I think we've all had the experience in third grade of watching this process by taking turns shaking a jar full of cream until it became butter. I think the teachers decided it was a good way to turn third graders' engergies into a constructive outlet.)
We had a new bistro open in my sleepy little town of Winnsboro a few weeks ago. And they offer several levels of tea service from a simple cream tea to high tea. Oh, and tea. Yeah...tea. It turns out you gotta drink a lot of tea when you have tea.
There is much ceremony around a tea service. The owner of the Winnsboro Bistro is from England and has the accent to prove it. Savor that tiny factoid a while...remembering that our closest Walmart usually carries the distinct aroma of cow manure in their parking lot. Can you picture a transplant from the mother country in our humble little town?
I've been to the Bistro several times by now and love to take city friends with me, maybe to prove that we may live in the sticks but we can eat in Europe, if only vicariously. One of the highlights of the tea is when Peter, the Bistro owner, tells the story of why the English put milk in their cream.
You put the milk in first. Then add the tea. He says the first tea cups didn't have handles and were of poor quality. This left them liable to break when the scalding hot tea hit the cold cup, leaving your hand and lap burned. By putting milk in the cup first, the hot tea never hit the cheap china; it would hit the milk first and be immediately cooled just a bit-- saving the cup from breaking. Peter also gives a warning to never accept tea that turned gray when the milk was added. 'Send it back!" he told us with great drama, "it is inferior tea." A proper tea should be tan or light brown.
Actually, if the truth be told, my daughters and I don't really get into the whole tea part tea so much. It's really the scones and clotted cream we're after.
My belated Mothers Day gift was High Tea at the Bistro last Saturday. This set us in search of a good scones recipe and Emily found one somewhere online. She made the most delicious scones I've ever had, including Harrod's in London. High tea is all about the scones. Maybe they should call it Scone Tea.
Toasted Almond SconesRule Britiania!
(makes 12)
Ingredients
1 cup blanced almonds, toasted
2 TBSPS sugar
1 large egg
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup milk
1/4 tsp almond extract
1 3/4 cups flour
1 TBSP baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1 stick butter
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1. heat the oven to 400 degrees
2. process 1/2 cup almonds and sugar in a blender until ground. Finely chop the remaining 1/2 cup
3. stir the egg, milk, cream and extract in a bowl until blended.
4. whisk flour, ground almonds, baking powder and salt in another bowl to combine. add the butter to this bowl and toss to coat it with flour. With fingertips, rub in the butter until coarse crumbs form
5. add egg mixture, stir until a dough forms. stir in the chopped almonds. knead the dough 10 times.
6 turn dough out onto a floured work surface. divide in half. working with one piece at a time, pat the dough into a circle 5 inches in diameter.
7. cut the circle into 6 wedges. brush the tops with water. top each scone with a few sliced almonds.
8. bake 20 minutes on an ungreased baking sheet or until golden.
I decided an glaze was in order. So I took about a tablespoon or two of almond extract along with about 3 TBSP of milk and slowly added powdered sugar until it was thick but flowing. I dipped the tops of the scones in this to cover just the top then set aside to harden.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Home Brew Vanilla
Times are hard. Who would ever think violence in Mexico could affect the quality of PTA cupcakes?
Last year's mission trip to build houses in Reynosa got cancelled because of the drug war violence. This year's trip still is up in the air. And these trips weren't just to build those houses. Nosiree bob. The trip also furnished me with a year's supply of cheap but great vanilla. And now, dearhearts, I have officially run out of the good stuff.
Three years ago I took a cooking class here in the sticks where the average housewife does not make annual trips to Mexico nor can afford a gourmet shipment of Martha Stewart-grade vanilla. She either settles for the stuff at Walmart or she makes her own. The cooking teacher told me to go out and buy a pint of cheap vodka and throw in 3 or 4 vanilla beans. This lady had won more than a few State Fair ribbons for her pies and cakes so I figure she knew what she was talking about.
She told us the vanilla would be ready in three months. I wrote the date on the bottle and for a few months I would check it from time to time, unscrewing the bottle then sniff and swirl and sniff. It just smelled like vodka. Which, if you have noticed, doesn't have much of a smell.
I went back to using the Mexican stuff since I had it. But tonight the bottle was enpty and things got desperate. And there was a cake to ice. I had no other option. I prayed and opened the vodka vanilla. To my happy surprise, three years later it is every bit as good as what I was buying in Mexico.
I remembered that the cooking teacher said I should give the bottle a little shake every single day. But there is a huge "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" factor in my kitchen and I never tended to the brew. So, I'm thinking it might not have taken three years to produce decent vanilla if I had been a smidge more attentive.
Get your vodka and beans. It may take you some time but I've learned it will be worth it. At least until we can get the drug wars in Mexico to die down.
Last year's mission trip to build houses in Reynosa got cancelled because of the drug war violence. This year's trip still is up in the air. And these trips weren't just to build those houses. Nosiree bob. The trip also furnished me with a year's supply of cheap but great vanilla. And now, dearhearts, I have officially run out of the good stuff.
Three years ago I took a cooking class here in the sticks where the average housewife does not make annual trips to Mexico nor can afford a gourmet shipment of Martha Stewart-grade vanilla. She either settles for the stuff at Walmart or she makes her own. The cooking teacher told me to go out and buy a pint of cheap vodka and throw in 3 or 4 vanilla beans. This lady had won more than a few State Fair ribbons for her pies and cakes so I figure she knew what she was talking about.
She told us the vanilla would be ready in three months. I wrote the date on the bottle and for a few months I would check it from time to time, unscrewing the bottle then sniff and swirl and sniff. It just smelled like vodka. Which, if you have noticed, doesn't have much of a smell.
I went back to using the Mexican stuff since I had it. But tonight the bottle was enpty and things got desperate. And there was a cake to ice. I had no other option. I prayed and opened the vodka vanilla. To my happy surprise, three years later it is every bit as good as what I was buying in Mexico.
I remembered that the cooking teacher said I should give the bottle a little shake every single day. But there is a huge "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" factor in my kitchen and I never tended to the brew. So, I'm thinking it might not have taken three years to produce decent vanilla if I had been a smidge more attentive.
Get your vodka and beans. It may take you some time but I've learned it will be worth it. At least until we can get the drug wars in Mexico to die down.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Royal Wedding Cake
The Dalls Morning News' published their version of the Groom's cake at the royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Not only is it insanely easy to make it doesn't even require cooking. I made my own version substituting ingredients that are easier to get than the British version. The original version calls for "digestive biscuits". I haven't a clue what these are but they sound really nasty. So I used vanilla wafers. The first one I made wasn't very good because I used evaporated milk instead of sweetened condensed milk. It makes a huge difference.
12 ounce package of vanilla wafers. any brand. Poke a hole in the bag with an icepick and beat up the wafers with a rolling pin. Don't beat them up into crumbs, there should be small pieces and some crumbs.
3/4 cup dark chocolate chips ( buy a 12 ounce bag. You will use it twice in this recipe.)
1 stick butter
14 ounces of sweetened condensed milk (Eagle brand kind of stuff)
heat the chips, butter and milk until everything is melted and smooth
add a hefty tablespoon of vanilla extract
Dump the wafers into the melted mixture and combine well. You could add some chopped almonds if you want for a nice texture. The original recipe calls for raisins but dried cranberries might be nice, too.
Line a 9 inch cake pan with plastic wrap and pour the mixture into that, spreading it all evenly around the bottom.
Chill for about 4 hours or until it sets.
When the cake has set, take it out of the plastic wrap. Melt another 3/4 cup of dark chocolate chips and glaze the cake with that.
Refrigerate the cake but bring to room temp before serving. Very rich, cut into thin slices. Add maybe a strawberry and whipped cream. This is basically a candy bar.
12 ounce package of vanilla wafers. any brand. Poke a hole in the bag with an icepick and beat up the wafers with a rolling pin. Don't beat them up into crumbs, there should be small pieces and some crumbs.
3/4 cup dark chocolate chips ( buy a 12 ounce bag. You will use it twice in this recipe.)
1 stick butter
14 ounces of sweetened condensed milk (Eagle brand kind of stuff)
heat the chips, butter and milk until everything is melted and smooth
add a hefty tablespoon of vanilla extract
Dump the wafers into the melted mixture and combine well. You could add some chopped almonds if you want for a nice texture. The original recipe calls for raisins but dried cranberries might be nice, too.
Line a 9 inch cake pan with plastic wrap and pour the mixture into that, spreading it all evenly around the bottom.
Chill for about 4 hours or until it sets.
When the cake has set, take it out of the plastic wrap. Melt another 3/4 cup of dark chocolate chips and glaze the cake with that.
Refrigerate the cake but bring to room temp before serving. Very rich, cut into thin slices. Add maybe a strawberry and whipped cream. This is basically a candy bar.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Baked Egg Custard
When we were first married we had a neighbor across the alley we called Oma. That's the German word for Grandmother; that's what her grandchildren called her and, in fact, what I called my own German grandmother. She was in her eighties when we knew her and was one of those phenemenonal women you read about in books. Or, in this case, blogs.
One afternoon soon after we moved in, I looked out the kitchen window to see her standing on top of her house sweeping leaves off her roof. Not only was she fearless, she was crafty. She appeared one day and with an innocent look on her face asked Beaven to show her how to change the oil in her car. Naturally, Beaven did it for her. And every oil change afterwards she would just show up with the cans of oil and her carkeys. This evolved into lighting her furnace for her first thing every winter. I painted her bedroom for her. When we sold the house the new owners of the house called us in early November to ask Beaven how to light Oma's furnace.
In exchange she would make Beaven a custard. And taught me how to garden by the seasons.
To start with you have to get your potatoes and onions in the ground by Valentines Day. So you might have time now if you hurry. Around Halloween you could give up on the spindly plants. Oma would pull them up and throw them into the compost pile. Except for the tomatoes. They were her personal challenge and she tried her darndest to keep the tomatoes going until Christmas. And one year she had a few Cherry Tomatoes on Christmas Day. Of course, that depends on whether you have a freeze or not. Come the following spring she would sometimes get tomato plants that came up from the seeds of the previous year. She would call these "volunteers" and was very proud of them.
She had a smallish garden in her yard what wasn't more than about 6X10 feet. In it she had squash, onions, okra, peppers, potatoes, green beans and tomatoes. Her garden practically gave her all the vegetables she needed. The soil where we lived in Southwest Oak Cliff was perfect for gardens and most people in our neighborhood had a garden. Following Oma's lead I put in a garden but put in far more tomatoes than I needed. I harvested so many tomatoes I couldn't give them away. Big, blemish-free, brightly colored, perfect tomatoes. And far more than we could eat. I would take a huge grocery sack to the neighbor across the street, ring the doorbell and run away. I even made ketchup once. And, let me tell you, tasty though it was, it was just too damned much trouble.
Oma taught me to not be afraid of cooking. She would add a bit of sugar to most vegetables she cooked because she said it made it taste fresher. Even the stuff she brought in straight from the garden. She also taught me to not be afraid of motherhood, too. She babysat for me sometimes so I could run a quick errand. I forgot to leave diapers and came home to find she had changed Elizabeth into a kitchen towel when there wasn't a diaper. She used to sew for a living and I've never before or since seen anyone run a sewing machine as fast as she did.
Here's her Egg Custard recipe. It's Beaven's favorite. If you invite him over for dinner you could serve this and he just might change the oil in your car for you.
Baked Egg Custard
3 eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups milk
1 Tablespoon vanilla
a little freshly ground nutmeg
beat until well combined but not foamy. Pour into six 6-ounce ramekins. Here's the important part: Put the ramekins into a 9X13 inch glass pan. Fill the pan with water about an inch deep. This will temper the heat so the custard doesn't burn or get tough. Or you can use a 3 1/2 cup souffle dish.
cook ramekins at 325 degrees for 30-45 minutes
or 50-60 minutes if you're making one souffle dish
It's ready when a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
One afternoon soon after we moved in, I looked out the kitchen window to see her standing on top of her house sweeping leaves off her roof. Not only was she fearless, she was crafty. She appeared one day and with an innocent look on her face asked Beaven to show her how to change the oil in her car. Naturally, Beaven did it for her. And every oil change afterwards she would just show up with the cans of oil and her carkeys. This evolved into lighting her furnace for her first thing every winter. I painted her bedroom for her. When we sold the house the new owners of the house called us in early November to ask Beaven how to light Oma's furnace.
In exchange she would make Beaven a custard. And taught me how to garden by the seasons.
To start with you have to get your potatoes and onions in the ground by Valentines Day. So you might have time now if you hurry. Around Halloween you could give up on the spindly plants. Oma would pull them up and throw them into the compost pile. Except for the tomatoes. They were her personal challenge and she tried her darndest to keep the tomatoes going until Christmas. And one year she had a few Cherry Tomatoes on Christmas Day. Of course, that depends on whether you have a freeze or not. Come the following spring she would sometimes get tomato plants that came up from the seeds of the previous year. She would call these "volunteers" and was very proud of them.
She had a smallish garden in her yard what wasn't more than about 6X10 feet. In it she had squash, onions, okra, peppers, potatoes, green beans and tomatoes. Her garden practically gave her all the vegetables she needed. The soil where we lived in Southwest Oak Cliff was perfect for gardens and most people in our neighborhood had a garden. Following Oma's lead I put in a garden but put in far more tomatoes than I needed. I harvested so many tomatoes I couldn't give them away. Big, blemish-free, brightly colored, perfect tomatoes. And far more than we could eat. I would take a huge grocery sack to the neighbor across the street, ring the doorbell and run away. I even made ketchup once. And, let me tell you, tasty though it was, it was just too damned much trouble.
Oma taught me to not be afraid of cooking. She would add a bit of sugar to most vegetables she cooked because she said it made it taste fresher. Even the stuff she brought in straight from the garden. She also taught me to not be afraid of motherhood, too. She babysat for me sometimes so I could run a quick errand. I forgot to leave diapers and came home to find she had changed Elizabeth into a kitchen towel when there wasn't a diaper. She used to sew for a living and I've never before or since seen anyone run a sewing machine as fast as she did.
Here's her Egg Custard recipe. It's Beaven's favorite. If you invite him over for dinner you could serve this and he just might change the oil in your car for you.
Baked Egg Custard
3 eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups milk
1 Tablespoon vanilla
a little freshly ground nutmeg
beat until well combined but not foamy. Pour into six 6-ounce ramekins. Here's the important part: Put the ramekins into a 9X13 inch glass pan. Fill the pan with water about an inch deep. This will temper the heat so the custard doesn't burn or get tough. Or you can use a 3 1/2 cup souffle dish.
cook ramekins at 325 degrees for 30-45 minutes
or 50-60 minutes if you're making one souffle dish
It's ready when a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Potato Soup
We've had two days of ice and temperatures in the teens. Tomorrow will be the third day school has been closed. Everybody I know is making soups and chili. Time to share a few recipes and stories.
My brother used to make potato and broccoli soup every Sunday while he watched the Cowboy game. It was one of those recipes you just learned by watching. Not sure I could share it here unless you promise not to be mad if my measurements aren't precise.
Dice a couple of onions in a little olive oil or butter. Add some chicken broth. Then dice two or three or four potatoes and cook them. Add some cheese if you want. If I'm feeling ambitious I like to take out about half of the potatoes and run them through a blender and put back into the pot to give the soup body. Finally add some broccoli. Season throughout the process as you go along. Sometimes I add sour cream to give an extra zest.
Doss would put the pot on and keep it cooking during the whole game. Most people remember my brother as someone who just drank a lot of beer and the occasional jar of moonshine. But I remember him for this soup.
My brother used to make potato and broccoli soup every Sunday while he watched the Cowboy game. It was one of those recipes you just learned by watching. Not sure I could share it here unless you promise not to be mad if my measurements aren't precise.
Dice a couple of onions in a little olive oil or butter. Add some chicken broth. Then dice two or three or four potatoes and cook them. Add some cheese if you want. If I'm feeling ambitious I like to take out about half of the potatoes and run them through a blender and put back into the pot to give the soup body. Finally add some broccoli. Season throughout the process as you go along. Sometimes I add sour cream to give an extra zest.
Doss would put the pot on and keep it cooking during the whole game. Most people remember my brother as someone who just drank a lot of beer and the occasional jar of moonshine. But I remember him for this soup.
Chili
We Texans are particular about our Chili. For one thing, we capitalize it when we write it. When my grandfather died and they opened his safe deposit box all they found in it was his Chili recipe.
We have one grand stipulation that you have to promise if you are to be entrusted with a Chili recipe: our Chili does not contain beans. Not a single one. Am I clear? Can you take the no-bean pledge before we proceed?
Granddaddy had a special little shack out in the back where he would go cook his chili. I don't know of anything else he used this building for except Chili. It never was clear whether the recipe was such a top secret that he had to cook it in seclusion or if Grandmother just didn't want the mess inside the house.
I was never entrusted with Granddaddy's recipe for Chili. Maybe it had something to do with me being a girl. Or maybe it was because people spend entire lifetimes making a Chili recipe seem exotic and if you ever saw how simple it is you might be disappointed. After a lifetime of searching for just a simple straightforward Chili recipe I found it at the church Chili cookoff.
When I asked Pat Tripp for his prize-winning recipe he was suspicious. Assured that I wouldn't make fun of it or compete against him in a future contest he finally gave it to me. It is gloriously simple and has only one ingredient you could call exotic: cilantro. And if you find cilantro a challenge then there's just no hope for you.
Pat Tripp's Chili
(actually his father's who may or may not have kept this in a safe deposit box)
3 lbs meat (2 lbs ground meat and 1 of pork sausage)
1 large onion
1 teaspoon garlic powder
brown the above
add:
2 oz Chili powder
1 teaspoon each: cumin, black pepper, red pepper, salt
3 6 oz cans tomato paste
9 6 oz cans of water
1 bunch cilantro
bring to a boil and simmer two hours
eliminate the red pepper for children or yankees
We have one grand stipulation that you have to promise if you are to be entrusted with a Chili recipe: our Chili does not contain beans. Not a single one. Am I clear? Can you take the no-bean pledge before we proceed?
Granddaddy had a special little shack out in the back where he would go cook his chili. I don't know of anything else he used this building for except Chili. It never was clear whether the recipe was such a top secret that he had to cook it in seclusion or if Grandmother just didn't want the mess inside the house.
I was never entrusted with Granddaddy's recipe for Chili. Maybe it had something to do with me being a girl. Or maybe it was because people spend entire lifetimes making a Chili recipe seem exotic and if you ever saw how simple it is you might be disappointed. After a lifetime of searching for just a simple straightforward Chili recipe I found it at the church Chili cookoff.
When I asked Pat Tripp for his prize-winning recipe he was suspicious. Assured that I wouldn't make fun of it or compete against him in a future contest he finally gave it to me. It is gloriously simple and has only one ingredient you could call exotic: cilantro. And if you find cilantro a challenge then there's just no hope for you.
Pat Tripp's Chili
(actually his father's who may or may not have kept this in a safe deposit box)
3 lbs meat (2 lbs ground meat and 1 of pork sausage)
1 large onion
1 teaspoon garlic powder
brown the above
add:
2 oz Chili powder
1 teaspoon each: cumin, black pepper, red pepper, salt
3 6 oz cans tomato paste
9 6 oz cans of water
1 bunch cilantro
bring to a boil and simmer two hours
eliminate the red pepper for children or yankees
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