quote:Originally posted by jmckee
I frankly don't think there is any one dish that is "real" chili...
Well, just what makes chili, chili, then? (or chile, chile?) I was born in New Mexico, and grew up in Albuquerque. My Mom was Mexican, my Dad Norwegian. I’m sure that I have chile in my blood. I don’t remember having pureed green chile as a baby, but I can’t swear that it didn’t happen, either. From my experience (and I think that I’ve eaten chile (or chili) in every state but North Dakota) if it tastes like chile, it IS chili.
First and foremost, it has to have the flavor of the pod. Whether red or green, fresh, frozen, chopped, diced, dried, ground into a powder, whatever—if it doesn’t have that taste, it is NOT chili. If it doesn’t also have the flavors of Mexican oregano, cumin, and red meat, you’ll have an uphill fight convincing me to call it chili. Having said that, I will admit to having had more than one bowl of vegetarian chili that I would accept as the real McCoy. Likewise chile verde in Arizona where I could taste no cumin whatsoever. If it tastes like chile, it is.
quote:Originally posted by jmckee
I frankly don't think there is any one dish that is "real" chili...
I’ll agree with that, I’m not a member of the P. C. (pure chili) police. But some things just should not be called chili.
I don’t want to see somebody making a concoction of lobster, codfish, clams, goose breast, and peppercorns, tossing in a half tsp of cumin, serving it with cranberries on top of seaweed, and calling it “Maine Chili.” I don’t want my Dad to make a spicy stew with lutefisk and sour cream, and call it “Oslo Chili.” Back in the sixties, my mother-in-law in Omaha used to fry up some hamburger, add a teasppoon of chili powder, a can of kidney beans, a can of Campbells tomato soup, and call it chili. It wasn't. But she was sure that the spicy foods I favored (very rare in those years in someone named Dahlquist) would kill me before age thirty.
I’ll accept Cincinnati Chili only because the term is so well known and is descriptive of a particular food. That, after all, is the point of naming things.
I’ll accept chicken fried steak for the same reason. Even though it is not chicken, (arguably not steak either) if I see it on a menu, I know exactly what to expect on my plate.
Likewise, although soda crackers are made with baking soda, and cornbread with corn, where’s the oysters in oyster crackers? I won’t go in to the missing HAM in hamburger. The point is that that some food names (including Cincinnati Chili) enjoy such widespread acceptance and use that there is no point in trying to suppress them out of some silly sense of linguistic purity.
dahl