Chili, cornbread, and those good ole saltines…

Nothing beats my mom’s chili and cornbread. Nothing. You can argue with me all you want, but the simple pleasure of a warm stew of beans, meat, and cheese adorned with a dollop of sour cream with a side of buttery smooth cornbread on a rainy, cold southern day is unbeatable. Just close your eyes and imagine: you’re six years old and you’ve just come in from scootering away to your heart’s content. It’s the middle of an Alabama-December, but your hastily chosen pink Sleeping Beauty jacket still was letting the cold settle in deep, and your nose and cheeks are rosy from the winter breeze. After kicking off your boots, you tromp up to your mom in the kitchen and promptly ask, “What’s for dinner?”. This is followed by the question you always look forward to. “Would you like spaghetti, tacos, or chili?” she asks, knowing full well what the answer is going to be. Your confident voice booms out in the small room. You have chosen chili. Of course, the condition of cornbread being served as well is placed down on the floor. Your mom happily agrees, and so you run to your room to play with Barbies and Hot Wheels till you hear the call to come to the table.

That scene was a regular occurrence in my home. My family never really has been known for out of the world cooking. Even now with my parents being divorced and remarried, no one is known for anything spectacular. Simple food has always been a tradition in my life. As long as it tastes good and looks good and smells good, it is good. Chili was one of those simple meals. It still is. The chili only really consisted of some seasoning, about three different types of beans, some ground beef, and tomato sauce. Cheddar cheese is sprinkled on the top, and enough sour cream gets put into it to nearly make the chili white. The cornbread was an important part, my mom stopping me during my questioning to say, “I have a love for cornbread like no other! But, no sugar, please.” She had put a harsh emphasis on the “no”. The cornbread was to be more salty than sweet. A layer of butter was to be put in the middle of the triangle of bread. If saltines were needed, a whole reem would be placed out. The flavor never wavered, it was warm and cozy to eat, and just overall probably one of the more enjoyable things to eat. I don’t think, in full, that the flavor was the reason the chili-cornbread combo was my favorite thing, though.

 I really think it was just the way I was allowed to eat it wildly. You can figure that as a child, the act of being able to haphazardly slap some chili onto a cracker or dump way too much cornbread into the bowl to throw off that perfect liquid to bread ratio was overly inviting. The change-up of our normal order of eating properly with forks and knives was, honestly, too much fun to me. This whole idea was confirmed when I asked my mom why she thought I liked the meal. She replied back almost laughingly and said, “You mastered placing a spoonful of chili on a cracker and biting it ever so gently as to not drop the whole thing.” I can vividly remember hanging my head over the bowl while chili spilled over the edges of a saltine, expertly trying to figure out how to bite it and not ruin the whole thing. I also, though, remember just giving up completely and shoving the entire thing in my mouth. You can see how this lead multiple times to disaster. Fun disaster. A mouth full of crackers and too hot chili was exciting and a challenge. You can quote me on that. 

However, now that I’m here in college over 1,200 miles away from home, I can see another side to why I like the meal so much. As a kid, I enjoyed it because of how messy it was, and how it warmed me up on winter days. As a college student, I’ve found that I love the meal so much because of the connections it has to my mom. I just want the quality time with her and the laughs that come along with it.  I could care less if it tasted like cafeteria slosh or the best gourmet dish on the planet. 

Talking more with my mom about her memories with making chili, I learned that this view was also reflected in her eyes. She told me how she loved watching me formulate how to not make a mess, but always ending up making one anyway. She said it “was my specialty.” She also described with a smile how she always knew how I was going to ask for chili, and how she always kept ingredients in the house for it. She apparently for a while even kept the cornbread recipe up on the fridge because she was making it so often and she got tired of having to dig for it.  Without really having to ask, I also learned more about the recipe she had mentioned. The recipe was one of my great-grandmother’s creations, and it had been passed down to each generation of mothers. It had apparently been slowly perfected over time, and when I asked if my mom had done anything to it, she beamed and announced, “I learned the skill of perfecting the crunchy edge and soft center.” Seeing and hearing my mom’s view on the meal adds another level to my love for the chili and cornbread. I treasure memories my mom has because they’re like windows into my family’s past. Little moments in time that I get to peek in on. 

It’s funny to me how something so common and basic could have so much meaning to it. As I get older I realize how many things have made their mark on me. This simple bowl of chili and triangle slice of bread has brought smiles to my mom and to me, and I know for years coming on, that it’ll continue to do so. Just a little bit of mixing in the kitchen can open up the table for fond memories and loud laughs.

Recipe…

the chili.

2 lb ground beef, browned, seasoned with salt to taste, then drained
1 15 oz. Can tomato sauce
2 15 oz. Can diced tomatoes
2 15 oz. Cans pinto beans, drained
1 6 oz. Tomato paste
2 c. Water
3 T chili powder
3 T ground cumin
2 T garlic powder
2 T onion powder
1 T smoked paprika
1/2 t. Cayenne pepper
1/2 t. Salt
1/2 t. Pepper

Brown ground meat in large dutch oven adding salt to taste. Drain. Add back to dutch oven and add seasonings stirring 1 to 2 minutes. Add tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, tomato paste and water. Bring to a simmer over medium low heat for about 15 minutes. Add drained beans and simmer for 5 more minutes. Remove from heat. Serve. Add chopped green onions, sour cream and grated cheddar as desired.

the southern cornbread.

1 c Cornmeal
3/4 c All purpose flour
1 t salt
1 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1 T sugar, optional
2 eggs, beaten
1 c milk or buttermilk
1/4 c melted butter
1/8 c Crisco or vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Put crisco or oil in iron skillet and heat in oven for 5 to 7 minutes.

In a large bowl mix dry ingredients and set aside. Mix beaten eggs, milk and melted butter. Pour wet ingredients into dry ingredients and mix until just blended. Dont over mix. Batter will be a little lumpy. Pull skillet with hot oil out of oven and add batter. Return to oven and bake 20 to 25 minutes or until top is lightly browned. Brush additional melted butter on top. Slice and serve.