Friday, April 2, 2021

NORTH DAKOTA RED: (AKA Bison Chili)

 



A Totally Unnecessary Introduction

Hi folks, I'm back once more with another dose of food-related silliness, deliciousness and wordiness.  It feels a little ridiculous to be introducing myself again because, thanks to this wildly successful blog, I've become an international cooking sensation.  That's not just braggin'; them's the facts.  Even so, for the one or two of you who are visiting for the first time, here comes another introduction anyway:

I'm Chef G., the Goofy God of Gastronomy, the Shimmering Chef of Shambala, His Excellency of Eating, the Cocksure Cook, the Bastard Child of Baking Brilliance, the Master of Mid-western Munchies, the Enormous Ego of Epicurianism, the Ass of Awful Alliteration and, most importantly, the Humble Host of the Chef G. Cooking Channel.

I specialize in mid-western cooking, but I also like to adapt mid-western sensibilities to dishes from all over the world.  So far it has been my pleasure to present specialties from Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan and Missouri.  Today I'm going to show off my interpretation of what a North Dakota chili would look like if North Dakotans actually made chili.  

Somewhere I think I read that North Dakotan taste buds are something like 90% Scandinavian, so it's likely they don't make chili.  If not, they SHOULD.  North Dakota is the coldest of the lower 48 states, and I believe nothing can warm the perpetually frozen blood of those stoic Norwegians and Swedes like a hot bowl of chili.

Don't worry though.  This chili recipe isn't going to be a weird combination of tomato sauce, turnips, lingonberries, and reindeer.  No, it'll be an award-winning Chef G.-style chili that remains true to the Tex-Mex tradition.

                                                             ************

Every Single Chili Maker Thinks His Or Her Recipe Is The Best

It's true!  I've seen on-line chili recipes that claim to be the best.  My dad thinks his is the best.  My brother thinks his is the best.  I have several friends who think their recipes are the best. Incredibly, there are people who sprinkle cheese and/or crackers on their chili and still have the nerve to call their recipes "the best."  Even more bizarre are the southern Ohioans who claim a thing called "Cincinnati-Style Chili" (a popular regional version that calls for vinegar and spaghetti) is the best.  HUH? 

As much as I would have liked to include the the mid-western state of Ohio in my blog, noodles and acetic acid have no legitimate place in a chili recipe.  Nor do cheese and crackers . . . or any other junk people use, like brown sugar, cinnamon, cocoa, corn, etc.  Those people are nuts.

And then there's Texas.  Texans think they have world domination over chili excellence and they point to their "Texas Red" as being the gold standard of chili.  There can be no doubt that Texans know chili, but what if I were to transport you all the way across the Great Plains and substitute Texas beef with North Dakota bison?  Bison is leaner and has a more outdoorsy taste.  I love outdoorsy.  I love taste.

And what if we add two kinds of beans for a little extra flavor, color, texture and flatulence?

And what if we make it a little extra meaty so that nobody would ever mistake it for a soup?  Just look at a menu some time.  Restaurants, diners, and all-you-can-eat buffets all over America include chili in the "Soup" section along with their chicken noodle, French onion, split-pea, and vegetable beef varieties.  I can't speak for ALL chili-heads, but in my opinion, chili is NOT soup.

Yeah . . . meaty, bean-y, thick, and bison-y . . . THAT'S North Dakota chili.

                                                               ************

The Stuff That Goes Into Bison Chili


2 Pounds Ground Bison
1 Cup Diced Yellow Onion
2 Cloves Garlic
1/2 Cup Diced Green Bell Pepper
1/2 Cup Diced Red Pepper
2 Tbsp. Finely Diced Jalapeno Pepper
3 Whole Dried Chili Peppers
2 Tbsp. Chili Powder
1 Tsp. Ground Cumin
A 15 oz. Can of Black Beans
A 15 oz. Can of Pinto Beans
3 Big Tomatoes Diced (or one 28 oz. can of petite diced tomatoes)
One Cup Crushed Tomatoes
Have some decent beer available

                                               ************

How To Transform All That Stuff Into North Dakota Red

The first step is to brown the ground bison in a big pot with two tablespoons of olive oil.  Add a generous amount of salt and pepper.  Break up the bison burger, but not too much.  Bigger chunks provide more flavor, texture and hardiness.  Here in the upper mid-west we don't want our meat broken down into microscopic bits like those found in a can of Beefaroni.

While the meat is browning, you can start cutting up the vegetables--not too small, but not too big either.  Chop them just right.  (And please do not ignore the very important warning coming up next.)


CAUTION!  Food Prep Can Be Hazardous

A Case Study:

Are you familiar with the word "capsaicin?"  It's the chemical compound in chili peppers that makes them spicy hot.  Jalapeno peppers have a relatively low level of capsaicin compared to such firebombs as habaneros, Trinidad scorpions, and ghost peppers.  Even so, do not let your guard down.  Jalapenos still have plenty of the stuff to cause pain.

Cutting the jalapenos into tiny bits will require the finger tips of your non-cutting hand to come in contact with the capsaicin-loaded juices oozing out of the peppers.  Put one of those fingers to your tongue and you'll feel the burn.  But, until you've had a chance to scrub your hands with soap and water, do not under any circumstances try to scratch an itch in the corner of your eye.  It will hurt . . . A LOT.


If you've already touched your eye with jalapeno-soaked fingers before reading this, try to 
endure the pain & the uncontrollable flow of tears, seek medical help if you notice blisters 
 developing on your cornea, and be thankful my recipe didn't contain a Carolina Reaper.


Another thing to keep in mind while chopping your vegetables is that knives are sharp.  They can do serious damage to human flesh.


It really sucks when you accidentally cut off part of your finger while dicing onions.


And finally, when all of your concentration is focused on creating the most perfect batch of chili possible, it's easy to forget that things can get pretty hot in the kitchen.  The burner coil or gas flame, the chili pot, and the chili itself are all going to be dangerously hot.  Don't let the pain of burning flesh be your reminder of that fact.


Please excuse me for a few minutes.  I'll finish the recipe after I treat these 3rd-degree burns.


                                                                 ************

Don't worry folks, not only am I a world famous chef, but I also have some pretty decent emergency medical skills.  I am perfectly capable of performing retinal surgery on myself, bandaging a knife wound, and doing my own skin grafts.  So let's finish with the chili, shall we?




Granted, I look and sound quite amateurish in that video, but I have a couple excuses for that.  The main problem is that I need a professional camera crew.  Emeril, Gordon, Wolfgang, Rachel, Bobby, Mario, Guy, Jacque, and all my other celebrity chef competitors have them.  It isn't fair that I should have to hold my own phone while speaking and cooking.  I assure you, as soon as I get my first big paycheck from this gig, I'm going to invest it in some Hollywood-quality video cameras and a couple of big time cinematographers.

My other excuse is that I was still a little disoriented from the throbbing pain in my eyeball and half of my fingers.  I think all three injuries are going to require additional medical attention very shortly.

Anyway, those are also my excuses for failing to mention a couple other important cooking instructions.  I should have told you to put a lid on the pot while you let the chili simmer, removing it only to stir every 20 minutes or so.  Also, I should have told you what to do if, while stirring, you find the chili is too thick.


You add a little ale, of course.  Maybe a half-cup.  Maybe a little more.  Maybe a little less.
Use your own good judgement.  You don't need me to dictate everything.



After all that simmering, the flavors of the bison, spices, vegetables and beer will blend to create one incredible fusion of hardy deliciousness.  There is nothing more I can say about that.  The only things left to do are to remove the three dried chili pepper carcasses (unless you want severe discomfort in your esophagus, stomach and intestines) and load up a big bowlful.  Bon Apetit!


The chili is a meal in itself, but I went ahead and made a cucumber
salad with bell peppers and onions.  It's coolness and sweetness will
provide an excellent contrast to the heat and acidity of the chili. 



DAMN, that's some good stuff.





No comments:

Post a Comment