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‘Hotter than the hinges of hell’: Tom Parker Bowles’s 10-alarm chili

Tom Parker-Bowles

All will argue that theirs is the one-and-only true recipe, but when it comes to a Texas chili, tomatoes and beans are sacrilege

In Texas, chili is not so much lunch as full-blown religion. In fact, this blessed dish (with only one L, rather than the two used by the fiery fruit) has even inspired a pre-feast grace. ‘Chili eaters is some of Your chosen people,’ it goes. ‘We don’t know why You so doggone good to us. But, Lord God, don’t never think we ain’t grateful for this chili we about to eat.’ Amen to that.

Because chili, the spicy sustenance of cowboys and pioneers alike, is the corn-fed, ass-kickin’, big o’ boy of Tex Mex cookery, a swaggering, take-no-prisoners mouthful that can be hot as a billy goat in a pepper patch — or as cool as an ex-wife’s heart.

Indeed, the ‘bowl o’ red’ has been the State Dish of Texas since 1977 and it’s a statewide obsession, with cook-offs, competitions and chili parlours. There were ‘chili queens’, too, back towards the end of the 19th century — Mexican-American ladies who would appear, at dusk, in the plazas and squares of San Antonio, selling their chili (as well as tamales, enchiladas and even live canaries) from cauldrons on small carts. They were known for the vibrancy of their clothes and the soft glow emanating from their gaudily hued lamps.

Yet, when it comes to Texas chili, there are rules. It’s a simple, economical dish, with meat (predominantly beef, although pork is also popular), chillies, cumin, oregano and perhaps a smear of bacon grease. Tomatoes are a no no and woe betide the greenhorn who adds beans to the mix. People have been hanged for less.

Cross the border into New Mexico and things get purer still — simply chunks of slow-braised meat with a red-and-green chilli purée. And beans on the side. As for Cincinnati chili… well, best not to mention this version in polite Texan company, but it has its roots in Macedonia, rather than Mexico, and is sweet with cloves, nutmeg and cinnamon, served (when you order ‘five-way’) over spaghetti with beans, onions and cheese.

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Back to the Lone Star State, where things are done properly. The dish was first mentioned, with a slightly different spelling, in a book called Chile con Carne, or The Camp and the Field, in 1857. Some claim it was invented by Texan pioneers, en route to make their fortune (or not) in the California Gold Rush. They’d pound dried beef with chillies and suet to form a kind of pemmican, which could be mixed with water to make an instant fiery stew. Others say it came from the cowboys, who boiled beef with wild chillies and herbs foraged on the plains. Although there are plenty of beef-and-chilli stews in the north of Mexico (birria et al), this is very much a Texan dish.

Of course, there are as many styles and variations as there are cattle and you’ll find it made with everything from venison to rattle-snake, with additions of coffee, chocolate, beer, cinnamon, cloves and God knows what else. Naturally, all will argue that their ‘bowl of blessedness’ is the one-and-only true recipe. You can use minced beef or chunks of slow-cooked shin.

The recipe below uses the latter and feeds quite a few (proper chili should always be made in bulk and it freezes well, too). It’s also definitely on the spicier side — ‘hotter than the hinges of hell’, according to one heat-averse friend — so do feel free to tone down the chillies. Oh and, although this is in no way ‘authentically’ Texan, rest assured — I’d never dream of adding beans.

Tom Parker Bowles’s 10-alarm chili

Credit: Alamy

Ingredients

Feeds 8 to 10

  • 5tbspn groundnut oil
  • 3.6kg shin of beef, chopped into about 10 big chunks
  • 4 red onions, finely chopped
  • 6 dried chipotle chillies and 6 dried ancho chillies (from www.mexgrocer.co.uk), soaked separately in water for 30 minutes, then finely chopped
  • 2 chopped bird’s-eye chillies
  • 5 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 3tbspn cumin seeds, roasted in a hot, dry pan until the oils are released, then ground to a fine powder
  • 2 big pinches of Mexican oregano (from www.coolchile.co.uk or use European oregano, if you must)
  • ½tspn cayenne pepper
  • ½tspn hot chilli powder
  • 4tbspn tomato purée
  • Tabasco
  • Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 litre fresh beef stock (a decent cube will do)
  • Grated Cheddar cheese, sour cream, crushed crackers, chopped red onion, fresh coriander and tortillas or boiled white rice to serve

Method

Preheat the oven to 140˚C/120˚C fan/275˚F/gas mark 1.

Heat 3tbspn of groundnut oil in a very large casserole over a high heat and brown the meat, in batches, then set aside.

In the same pan, add a little more oil and soften the onion over a low-medium heat for about 15 minutes, then add all the chopped chillies and garlic and cook gently for five minutes.

Add the cumin, oregano, cayenne and chilli powder and cook for a minute or so more. Then, add the tomato purée, a big glug each of Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce and cook for a further two minutes.

Return the browned meat to the pan, stir, then add the stock. Bring just to the boil, then cover and cook in the oven for about 4–5 hours, until the meat is meltingly tender.

Serve on tortillas or boiled white rice, with cheese, sour cream, crushed crackers, red onion and coriander.