On a recent gloomy day, one of many to come as the seasons change, I made chili, a classic comfort food perfect for such circumstances. In keeping with my last blog entry looking back to the cuisine trends of the 80s and 90s, I tried the chili recipe from “The Silver Palate Cookbook.” New to me, although referred to by the Silver Palate authors as a favorite, this recipe produces a light, fresh-tasting version of the southwest stew, brightened by lemon juice, fresh herbs and a dash of dijon mustard. We really enjoyed this chili, and will definitely make it again soon. 

The recipe can be found here, and for what it’s worth the current issue of Saveur celebrates the original Silver Palate New York City store as “The Tiny NYC Shop That Inspired Big Ideas.”

My first experience with chili is indicative of much of my childhood eating because it came from a can produced by the Campbell Soup Company. The Chunky version of beef chili with beans was a personal favorite, and my only real reference point to chili for a long time. 

My Texas-born maternal grandmother Toni Purnell once served me her version of chili (with Fritos), which perplexed me because there were no beans and it could be eaten with a fork instead of a spoon. I would come to learn, years later, that her chili con carne was an authentic take on Texas chili, often served in the Lone Star State alongside queso, enchiladas or even a juicy steak. See Texas food guru Robb Walsh’s classic chili con carne recipe here.

By contrast, I now think of the Silver Palate Chili as big city chili (remember those silly commercials making fun of salsa from New York City), given its upper West Side roots. Unlike most of my efforts at making chili, which are generally free form in their approach, I closely followed this recipe. The results were well worth the disciplined effort.

In addition to those long-ago cans of Campbell’s Chunky chili with beef and beans, and faint memories of my Grandmother Purnell’s Texas chili, here’s a greatest hits list of my own chili tasting experiences:

• Testing various versions of the spicy stews offered by the Texas Chili Parlor in Austin, Texas, with a particularly fond memory of dining there with my Uncle George and late Aunt Diane.
• Sampling what I can only think of as the California Cuisine version of chili, some of them alarmingly hot, at the Encino-based Chili My Soul (the inspiration for the title of this post), when Abby and I were living in the San Fernando Valley in the late 90s.
• Devouring the chili with pasta at Abby’s beloved Chili Mac in Chicago (now defunct), which she enjoyed as an affordable and comforting dinner on those cold Midwestern nights when she was working her first job out of college, living in the Lincoln Park neighborhood.
• Soaking up a night of hard drinking during my college years with a 2 a.m. Chili Cheese Omelette at the Camellia Grill’s iconic Uptown New Orleans all-night diner.
• Sharing my own version of Texas chili with family and friends at the one and only Super Bowl Party I ever hosted, which magically ended in a win by my hometown team, the New Orleans Saints. The chili was pretty good, and I still get goosebumps thinking about the final moments of the game when it became evident that the long-suffering Saints would win. Never fear, we served homemade gumbo at that party too.
• Replicating on many occasions a version of so-called Dump Chili, first demonstrated to us by a Midwestern friend, that involves browning ground meat (beef, bison, turkey, etc.) and topping it with canned chili beans, quality salsa or pico de gallo, shredded cheese, diced onion, sour cream and corn chips. It’s super easy and can be, depending upon the quality of ingredients, delicious.

Nearly everyone seems to both love chili and have a special version of their own. I am not wedded to any specific style or recipe. I enjoy them each in their own way. I also appreciate, particularly during the ongoing pandemic, that part of the appeal of chili (and having a signature recipe) relates to its communal dynamics. You make chili for special occasions and share and compare your version with friends and family.

Here’s looking forward to making this Silver Palate chili, or some other version, for a Super Bowl Party or other gathering of family and friends when we can safely gather again. This week’s $25 donation went to the Oregon Food Bank. Thank you for spending a little time with me.