Chili & Cornbread: Autumn Fare

Did you ever stop to think about how 'chilly' and 'chili' mean literally opposite things, but that when the weather turns into the former, all you want to eat is the latter?
Well, I have.

Here's a fun chili story: while Judson and I were dating, I moved into an apartment in an old schoolhouse. My flat was amazing: there were floor to ceiling windows lining one entire wall, and a chalkboard running the length of another wall. I had a pool and a designated parking spot in the busiest neighborhood in town, and it was awesome. So, shortly after moving in, of course I decided to host a game night and dinner party for some friends. Judson, as my co-host, agreed to help me plan the menu, and together we decided on chili and cornbread.

But then we hit our first snag: we both wanted to make our mom's chili recipe. I thought I should get priority because we were hosting the game night in my house, and Judson thought he should get priority because we were using his games. Eventually, we came to the conclusion that we would each get our own mother's recipe, and then compare them to see which one sounded more delicious, and make that one. (Full disclosure: there was a bit of a heated discussion involved in achieving this compromise).

We phoned our moms, diligently wrote down their recipes word for word as they were dictated to us, and then compared notes. But here's what we found: our moms' chili recipes were exactly the same. And what's better? Both of our moms, upon being asked for their chili recipes, responded in kind with some variation of 'I mean, you brown some meat, and some onions and some bell peppers, and then you season it and then you cook it until it looks like chili. I dunno!'

Crisis was averted as we realised we'd be able to make both of our moms' recipes simultaneously, but it would be another year or so before we realised that what this really meant is that we both grew up eating pretty basic chili. Since then, we've figured out how to make it our own, and while we both still prefer a version similar to what we grew up with, we've added toppings and spices and different cooking methods to make it in our own Cowan way.

And ever since that evening in my schoolhouse apartment, not an autumn has gone by that has not seen us brewing up a big pot of chili and inviting our friends over to take part. So when I realised autumn was upon us, I was excited to search out a chili recipe from the box. Eleanor had good taste in cosy foods, and my mom had to have learned her recipe from somewhere, so I assumed this would be a bit of a copout and I'd get to make my favourite chili recipe and still call it a blog entry.

Yeah, you try taking a picture of a bowl of chili and making it look delicious. It's harder than it sounds.

But then I read the recipe. There are only three ingredients listed on it, and here they are:

'5 salts.'
'2 T powder.'
'½ + sugar.'

Ahem. So this one required quite a bit of ingenuity on my part, to say the least. But we were having friends over, so it was the perfect time to try this out, and on this recipe, Eleanor did not fail me (though her vague notes may mean she was trying to). Additionally, we served it with cornbread, as all chili should be, and though I don't have one of those cast-iron pans that makes cornbread in the shape of an ear of corn, it was still delicious.

The verdict:
the chili:

Look at the crumb on that cornbread! look at it!

5 spoons out of five. This may not be a new dish, but it's classic, comforting, warming, and hearty, and most of all, it's delicious. Make this for some friends, and serve it with pride. Your house will smell amazing, and you'll never feel cosier than you do curled up with friends and a bowl of this chili.

The cornbread:

4 spoons out of five. This cornbread is perfect for what it is (authentic, rustic cornbread). But nowadays the prevalence of Jiffy cornbread mix and Boston Market has made everyone think cornbread should be sweet, and this isn't. So for that, I'm docking a spoon-- just so you don't make it and think that it's boring in it's plainness. Important note: if you, like me in real life but not like me on this blog, are not into following recipes to the letter, then dress this up as you wish. A handful of pickled jalapeños give it kick; some chopped up queso fresco will make it creamier and less crumbly; reducing the butter by a few tablespoons and swapping it with honey will make a sweeter bread; adding in some freshly shucked corn or thawed frozen creamed corn will make a more rustic bread. If you have a corn-ear cast-iron pan, then I am jealous and you should make this in it. If you don't, use a skillet for maximum back-woods-ness. Failing either of these, a round layer cake pan or an 8x8 square pan work just fine.

The recipe:

Classic Chili

the directions:

Chop the onions and saute in a spoonful of oil until soft and translucent.
Add beef and brown over medium heat.
Add chili powder, salt, and green pepper, stirring to combine.
Add well-drained beans and undrained tomatoes.
Stir well, then add sugar to taste.
Stir again and let simmer, uncovered over low heat for at least 10 minutes or until desired consistency (I usually simmer mine for about 40 minutes).

Serve with garnishes as listed above, and fresh warm cornbread.

the ingredients:

2 yellow onions, chopped coarsely
1 lb ground beef
1 green bell pepper, chopped coarsely
2 tbsp chili powder
2 tsp salt (+ more to taste)
2 cans kidney beans, well-drained
3 cans tomatoes, not drained
1-2 tbsp sugar

optional (but recommended) additions:

Red pepper
Black pepper
3 cloves chopped garlic, stirred in with the chili powder

Garnishes:

Sour cream
Fresh chilies, chopped
Pickled jalapenos
Sharp cheddar cheese, grated
Hot sauce

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The recipe:

Classic, Unsweetened Cornbread

THE DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 218C/425F.
Grease an 8x8 pan or a cast-iron, ovensafe skillet.
Sift flour once, then measure it into your mixing bowl.
Add baking powder, sugar, and salt, and sift again.
Add corn meal or polenta and mix well.
In a separate bowl, combine eggs and milk and beat well.
Add egg mixture to dry ingredients, stirring until combined.
Pour melted butter into batter and stir until texture is uniform.
Bake 30-40 minutes, until brown and firm on top.

Serve with a steaming bowl of chili. Best served fresh within a day of making it, but will last for up to four days at room temperature.

the ingredients:

1 ¼ c flour
2 ¼ c baking powder
2 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1 c cornmeal (in the UK, this will likely be labelled as polenta, and sold in fine-coarse varieties. I recommend coarse yellow polenta. Do not substitute Jiffy cornbread mix from the American grocery store for this, as it won't work)
2 eggs, beaten well
1 ¼ c milk
4 tbsp butter, melted

Piña Colada Cookies & Apricot-Cashew Drops

Cooking is not always glamourous. There are far too many disasters in my experience, and lately I've been on a roll with the disasters. Although sometimes entertaining, there's always something frustrating about slaving over a recipe, planning to take it to work or serve it to friends, and then having it inexplicably go awry. (Eleanor and her friends knew all about this: my great-aunt Margie once dumped an entire lasagna on kitchen floor immediately before a dinner party, then scooped it up and served it anyway because 'what they don't know won't hurt 'em.')

All that considered, I wasn't super excited about finishing the last two variations on this recipe sheet. There were 6 recipes on this page of Better Homes & Gardens from 1977, and when I made the first 2, they were good but just kind of boring.

I made the second 2 variations, and they were both complete disasters. Although they tasted great, they spread so much that they were all stuck together and ended up crumbling into bits as soon as I tried to scrape them off the cookie sheet.

So when I decided to make the final two variations, I figured it was a 50/50 chance they'd be edible. But I was hoping they'd work, because pineapple-coconut cookies? Yes, please. I avoided all of the things I thought could have gone wrong the disastrous time, and proceeded as directed, and what do you know? They came out delicious! ( It is not out of the realm of possibility that this is because I found Cookeen-- a new shortening substitute that is-- so far-- working better than Stork did for me!)

Weirdly, the piña colada cookies were a lot more boring than the apricot ones, and across the board everyone who tasted them agreed. The coconut and pineapple kind of blended into the dough and didn't really come across well, and the acid in the pineappe made the dough a bit grainier than I wanted it to be. The apricot-cashew cookies, though? Like manna from heaven! The apricots gave the dough an amazing chewiness, and the cashews added just the right amount of crunch.

Not wanting two entire batches of cookies in the house, I opted to take these into work with me. (This is no mean feat for me: Judson takes my blog creations into work all the time, but I am always really self-conscious about people eating things I made in front of me, so I kind of hate doing it. Also, the first time I brought a pie into my current job, a co-worker told me she didn't want any because 'she doesn't eat meat before noon,' and I was so thrown off I still haven't really recovered.) I kind of figured they'd get eaten, but that no one would really love them; I mean, apricot cookies? They don't sound nearly as exciting as chocolate chip, or even as classic as peanut butter. But lo and behold, my coworkers loved them, and both batches were gone by the time lunch rolled around.

Maybe now I'll be brave enough to bring my next cheesecake into my office... We'll have to see!

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five for the apricot-cashew cookies. I was disappointed I only got two of these, they were so good, and I can't wait to make them again.

3 spoons out of five for the piña colada cookies. They're still delicious and a fun and tropical take on normal cookies, but the flavours of the pineapple and coconut are a bit lost in the sweet dough, and I wanted a more coconutty flavour.

The recipe:

Pineapple-Coconut Cookies

the directions:

Preheat oven to 190C/375F.
Grease two cookie sheets.
Cream together sugars, butter, shortening, egg, and vanilla.
In a separate bowl, stir together four, salt, baking soda, and ginger.
Stir flour into creamed mixture and blend well.
Add coconut, pineapple, and walnuts and stir well.
Drop from a rounded teaspoon onto greased cookie sheet 2 inches apart.
Use a teaspoon! A larger spoon is far too big and won't let the cookies rise properly.
Bake 8-10 minutes until golden brown, then remove from the oven, let cool for 30 seconds, and move to a cooling rack.

Yields 36 cookies.

the ingredients:

½ c sugar
¼ c brown sugar, packed
¼ c butter
¼ c shortening (or Cookeen if you're in Britain)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 ¼ c flour
¾ tsp salt
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp ginger
½ c desiccated coconut (or more if using flaked coconut)
½ c drained crushed pineapple (or whiz some regular pineapple in the food processor if you live in the UK and can't find crushed)
½ c walnuts, chopped coarsely

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THE RECIPE:

Apricot-Cashew Drops

THE DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 190C/375F.
Grease two cookie sheets.
Cream together sugars, butter, shortening, egg, and vanilla.
In a separate bowl, stir together four, salt, and baking soda.
Stir flour into creamed mixture and blend well.
Add apricots and cashews and stir well.
Drop from a rounded teaspoon onto greased cookie sheet 2 inches apart.
Use a teaspoon! A larger spoon is far too big and won't let the cookies rise properly.
Bake 8-10 minutes until golden brown, then remove from the oven, let cool for 30 seconds, and move to a cooling rack.

Yields 36 cookies.

THE INGREDIENTS:

½ c sugar
¼ c brown sugar, packed
¼ c butter
¼ c shortening (or Cookeen if you're in Britain)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 ¼ c flour
¾ tsp salt
½ tsp baking soda
½ c dried apricots, snipped into bite-sized bits
½ c cashews, chopped coarsely

'Clam' Chowder, or, A Disaster Story

In the interest of making all the recipes in the box, I often stumble across dumb ones that were culled from magazines, newspapers, or ads. This is one of those recipes-- it's really just 'make a can of soup, and serve with a pat of butter.' But clam chowder is hard-ish to find here in Scotland, and I've always wanted to try making it myself.

So I figured one night for dinner last week that we'd give it a try. I once watched my mother-in-law made clam chowder and it seemed pretty easy, so I thought Judson and I could surely handle it, with the help of some internet resources for inspiration.

Here is something I didn't count on: the fishmonger, when I dropped by to buy fresh clams, told me he had no clams because, and I quote, 'the water around Scotland doesn't get cold enough for clams.'

I wish I had an image of the deadpan face I gave him when he said that because I really thought he was joking and if you don't understand why, you've clearly never been to a Scottish beach (where the water never gets above 50F/10C). But evidently it's true, and the balmy waters of Scotland are not home to many clams. Armed with this knowledge, I headed to Tesco where I planned to buy jarred clams, which I assumed would work just as well. But when I got to Tesco, I could only find jarred cockles. 'That's fine,' I thought to myself. 'We'll just have cockle chowder! I'll invent this new dish and before you know it, people the world over will be ordering it in restaurants near and far! How different could a cockle possibly taste from a clam?'

Very is the answer to that question... if the cockles happen to be pickled.

To redeem myself for the horrors of this recipe, here's a picture of the new hand-carved white pine spoon I bought to scoop salt with.

I assumed naively that the cockles would be brined in saltwater, but it turned out they were pickled in some kind of vinegar (the internet recommends making pickled cockles in malt vinegar, so maybe that's what it was?). Not only did they taste exclusively of pickle, but they definitively did not match the creamy potato chowder I had prepared for them.

Don't get me wrong, we proceeded anyway (partly because we had no other dinner food in the house; partly because I felt that I couldn't give up). I hoped some of the pickle flavour would soak out in the soup and be absorbed by the potatoes, but it did not. As an additional slap in the face, it turns out that cockles are just a type of saltwater clam (not the coquinas I thought they were). We still haven't determined what pickled cockles are supposed to be used for, and so far all of my Googling has produced only recipes for making your own pickled cockles, no recipes for things to put them into.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. Might I go ahead and recommend that you don't make this soup? However, if you're so inclined, next time you make an actual clam chowder, top each serving with a wee pat of butter. It makes the soup extra creamy and flavourful and even more perfect for sopping up the last drops with a crusty baguette.

The recipe:

Pickled Cockle Chowder

the directions:

Rinse the cockles well in cold water.
Prepare the clam chowder as directed, except swap pickled cockles for clams.
Serve with a pat of butter on each bowl, and don't expect anyone to finish ask for seconds.

the ingredients:

Your favourite clam chowder recipe
2 jars of pickled cockles