Chili
- Thread starter Barleycorn
- Start date
When the wife fixes a pot of chili it's chili only that night. Heck, I don't even add crackers half the time. Next night, she'll fix the spaghetti noodles separately for the leftover chili. I didn't grow up eating it that way, but it's fine. I'm not a picky eater. 1st time I had it though was at K-Lair outside of Haggin Hall. Thought they messed up my order. Can't believe I ordered chili from K-Lair.
Chili purists will tell you that chili definitely has no noodles and no beans.
Since i’m not a purist i always add beans and sometimes have leftover on sketti. and nowadays i use 93% lean ground turkey in my recipe that i’ve perfected over the past 45 years. i was introduced to ground achiote a couple of years ago and have incorporated it into my recipe. very good for tacos too.
Since i’m not a purist i always add beans and sometimes have leftover on sketti. and nowadays i use 93% lean ground turkey in my recipe that i’ve perfected over the past 45 years. i was introduced to ground achiote a couple of years ago and have incorporated it into my recipe. very good for tacos too.
Had no clue K-lair had chili.
My room mate from Ktower (and poster on this board) ordered the fish sandwich once and the smell haunts me to this day.
Don't flatter yourself Wody, most of the chili making world use the same ingredients in various amounts. Black beans=Mexican chili.
Stick to insurance and your BGE.
Prefer no noodles, but growing up my mom put them in her chili. We weren't poor, so I don't know why she made/makes it that way. Just the way her mom made it I suppose.
For me, the best chili has a ton of good hamburger in it; and I enjoy mine with crushed Ritz crackers instead of saltines. No beans either.
For me, the best chili has a ton of good hamburger in it; and I enjoy mine with crushed Ritz crackers instead of saltines. No beans either.
Thread reminds me of ordering the chili spaghetti at Frisch's as a kid. I remember that the chili was pretty darn good but waaaaay too much spaghetti. I also learned to never eat that green thing. It's nasty.
Chili doesn't play by your rules. It's like jazz. It's about what you don't put in there.
Beans. Spaghetti. Macaroni. Potatoes. Beer. Coffee. Wine. Chocolate. Chicken. Sausage. Brisket. Venison. It's like America. All are welcome.
(Except beans and noodles together. Those don't blend well)
Beans. Spaghetti. Macaroni. Potatoes. Beer. Coffee. Wine. Chocolate. Chicken. Sausage. Brisket. Venison. It's like America. All are welcome.
(Except beans and noodles together. Those don't blend well)
Split a baked potato, cover with butter and chives, then put a ladle of chili over that. Finish with cheese/sour cream.
My grands will be here Sunday and that’s Sunday dinner.
Ha. I used to order the ‘italian’ spaghetti at Frisch’s when I was a youngster. They brought me a plate one day that was thisclose to being maroon in color. I asked them if it was chili or spaghetti and the waitress said she didn’t know. Fantastic.Thread reminds me of ordering the chili spaghetti at Frisch's as a kid. I remember that the chili was pretty darn good but waaaaay too much spaghetti. I also learned to never eat that green thing. It's nasty.
Said frisch’s recently had an employee that has tested positive for Hep A. Happy to know I got carry out from there last weekend ...... (I’m vaccinated, but still)
https://deadspin.com/the-great-american-menu-foods-of-the-states-ranked-an-1349137024
Ohio
52. Cincinnati chili (Ohio)
For the mercifully unacquainted, "Cincinnati chili," the worst regional foodstuff in America or anywhere else, is a horrifying diarrhea sludge (most commonly encountered in the guise of the "Skyline" brand) that Ohioans slop across plain spaghetti noodles and hot dogs as a way to make the rest of us feel grateful that our own ****-eating is (mostly) figurative. The only thing "chili" about it is the shiver that goes down your spine when you watch Ohio sports fans shoveling it into their maws on television and are forced to reckon with the cold reality that, for as desperately as you might cling to faltering notions of community and universality, ultimately your fellow human beings are as foreign and unknowable to you as the surface of Pluto, and you are alone and always have been and will die alone, a world unto yourself unmarked and unmapped and totally, hopelessly isolated.
But wait! This abominable garbage-gravy isn't just sensorily and spiritually disgusting—it's culturally grotesque, too! What began as an ethnic curio born of immigrant make-do—a Greek-owned chili parlor that took its "Skyline" name from its view of the city of Cincinnati—is now a hulking private-equity-owned corporate monolith that gins up interest in its unmistakably abhorrent product by engineering phony groups of "chili fanatics" to camp out in advance of the opening of new chains, in locations whose residents would otherwise see this ****-broth for what it is and take up torches and truncheons to drive it back into the wilderness.
Whatever virtue this bad-tasting Z-grade atrocity once contained derived from its exemplification of a set of certain cherished American fables—immigrant ingenuity, the cultural melting pot, old things combining into new things—and has now been totally swamped and consumed by different and infinitely uglier American realities: the commodification of culture; the transmutation of authentic artifacts of human life into hollow corporate brand divisions; the willingness of Americans to slop any horrible goddamn thing into their ******* mouths if it claims to contain some byproduct of a cow and comes buried beneath a pyramid of shredded, waxy, safety-cone-orange "cheese."
Cincinnati chili is the worst, saddest, most depressing goddamn thing in the world. If it came out of the end of your digestive system, you would turn the color of chalk and call an ambulance, but at least it'd make some sense. The people of Ohio see nothing wrong with inserting it into their mouths, which perhaps tells you everything you need to know about the Buckeye State. Don't eat it. Don't let your loved ones eat it. Turn away from the darkness, and toward the deep-dish pizza.
Ohio
52. Cincinnati chili (Ohio)
For the mercifully unacquainted, "Cincinnati chili," the worst regional foodstuff in America or anywhere else, is a horrifying diarrhea sludge (most commonly encountered in the guise of the "Skyline" brand) that Ohioans slop across plain spaghetti noodles and hot dogs as a way to make the rest of us feel grateful that our own ****-eating is (mostly) figurative. The only thing "chili" about it is the shiver that goes down your spine when you watch Ohio sports fans shoveling it into their maws on television and are forced to reckon with the cold reality that, for as desperately as you might cling to faltering notions of community and universality, ultimately your fellow human beings are as foreign and unknowable to you as the surface of Pluto, and you are alone and always have been and will die alone, a world unto yourself unmarked and unmapped and totally, hopelessly isolated.
But wait! This abominable garbage-gravy isn't just sensorily and spiritually disgusting—it's culturally grotesque, too! What began as an ethnic curio born of immigrant make-do—a Greek-owned chili parlor that took its "Skyline" name from its view of the city of Cincinnati—is now a hulking private-equity-owned corporate monolith that gins up interest in its unmistakably abhorrent product by engineering phony groups of "chili fanatics" to camp out in advance of the opening of new chains, in locations whose residents would otherwise see this ****-broth for what it is and take up torches and truncheons to drive it back into the wilderness.
Whatever virtue this bad-tasting Z-grade atrocity once contained derived from its exemplification of a set of certain cherished American fables—immigrant ingenuity, the cultural melting pot, old things combining into new things—and has now been totally swamped and consumed by different and infinitely uglier American realities: the commodification of culture; the transmutation of authentic artifacts of human life into hollow corporate brand divisions; the willingness of Americans to slop any horrible goddamn thing into their ******* mouths if it claims to contain some byproduct of a cow and comes buried beneath a pyramid of shredded, waxy, safety-cone-orange "cheese."
Cincinnati chili is the worst, saddest, most depressing goddamn thing in the world. If it came out of the end of your digestive system, you would turn the color of chalk and call an ambulance, but at least it'd make some sense. The people of Ohio see nothing wrong with inserting it into their mouths, which perhaps tells you everything you need to know about the Buckeye State. Don't eat it. Don't let your loved ones eat it. Turn away from the darkness, and toward the deep-dish pizza.
K-Lair bashing? WTF? Place was awesome.
Double cheese burgers
Crinkle fries
Fried fish sandwich
Chicken strips
Double cheese burgers
Crinkle fries
Fried fish sandwich
Chicken strips
Use to go to 98.1 WKQQ Memorials Stakes day Chili cookout.
Nastiest chili I ever had was by one the local radio stations, shrimp and think also chocolate was in it. [sick]
Nastiest chili I ever had was by one the local radio stations, shrimp and think also chocolate was in it. [sick]
Chili with Beans with Crackers and a Splash Texas Pete in a bowl. Chili without Beans goes in Hot Dog Bun.
Honestly, for a hungry college kid I thought it was great too! Don't remember the fish sandwich, but seems like I had a bunch of the chicken sandwiches and cheeseburgers.
For people like me who have texture issues with chunks of tomato and bits of onion:
3 lbs ground chuck
3 cans pinto beans
2 large cans tomato paste
2 packets of Cincinnati Recipe brand chili mix.
Tear up the ground chuck into a shallow pot of water, mix in the 2 packets chili mix, then heat to a low boil and let cook for ~15 mins. Then add the remaining canned ingredients gradually over the next 15-20 minutes while gradually turning down the heat and stirring every 5 minutes. Continue to turn down and stir, keeping at a low boil/plop, for another 40 mins. Serve with cheese / oyster crackers / sour cream.
Leftovers: Over spaghetti, on hot dogs for coneys, as the meat ingredient on a plate of nachos, over a bowl of (or mixed in with) mac and cheese, on baked potatoes.
3 lbs ground chuck
3 cans pinto beans
2 large cans tomato paste
2 packets of Cincinnati Recipe brand chili mix.
Tear up the ground chuck into a shallow pot of water, mix in the 2 packets chili mix, then heat to a low boil and let cook for ~15 mins. Then add the remaining canned ingredients gradually over the next 15-20 minutes while gradually turning down the heat and stirring every 5 minutes. Continue to turn down and stir, keeping at a low boil/plop, for another 40 mins. Serve with cheese / oyster crackers / sour cream.
Leftovers: Over spaghetti, on hot dogs for coneys, as the meat ingredient on a plate of nachos, over a bowl of (or mixed in with) mac and cheese, on baked potatoes.
I have a brother who loves tomatoes. In the summer when we have fresh garden tomatoes he eats them all the time. Lots of them. But he will not eat tomatoes in chili or vegetable soup! I tell him he's a weirdo, maybe not.
One of the best bowls of chili I ever ate included a bottle or two of beer mixed in the pot, along with a couple of bars of plain Hershey's candy. It was so spicy that after the 2nd or 3rd bite you could no longer really taste the beer, and the chocolate just made it taste with just a hint of sweetness.