Cincinnati Chili

When home cooks serve up a hot pot of chili, all heck breaks loose. Arguments erupt between Texas-style lovers about whether to simply turn up the heat or mimic a volcano. There is much dispute regarding the credibility of a sauce that includes tomatoes and beans, coffee and beer, shredded versus cubed meat, or lime and cilantro. And don’t even get them started on the demerits of white chili. Locally, we’ve formed an unholy alliance with something called Minnesota chili. A watery concoction of ground beef and kidney beans specked with an occasional flavor raft of green pepper or tomato, Minnesota chili is Texas’s anemic second cousin three times removed (the only thing they share is a last name).

While Texans all hail their machismo elixir and Minnesotans cower in the corner with their flaccid bowls, Cincinnati chili smiles slyly and encourages the sweet (cinnamon, allspice, cloves) to play nice with the heat (garlic, chili, cumin). Macedonian immigrant Tom Kiradjieff was hustling coney islands (chili dogs) when he developed Cincinnati chili in the early 1920s. He added the spices of his childhood to bump up the chili, and influenced by the one-pot dishes of Greece and possibly his Italian neighbors Kiradjieff served the chili atop a bed of spaghetti noodles. Within a few years Kiradjieff’s customers were ordering their chili three-ways (pasta, sauce, yellow cheese), four-ways (pasta, sauce, cheese, diced white onions), five-ways (pasta, sauce, cheese, onions, and kidney beans), and any number of other complicated “ways.” Decades later, entire neighborhoods in metro Cincinnati are identified by their chili adaptations. Kiradjieff created a regional icon.

Cincinnati chili is the mediator of stews. When it is served the only gentle bickering you’ll hear is about whether chili is better with cheese and sans beans, or if white onions are better than red. This week’s recipe calls for canned chipotle peppers. You don’t need the entire can, so freeze the remaining peppers  and sauce to use in other recipes. Serve Cincinnati chili family-style and let diners decide to eat their chili with or without hot pasta, shredded cheddar cheese, diced onions, and warm kidney beans.

Cincinnati Chili
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 medium white onion, chopped
1 pound ground beef (85% lean)
1 clove garlic, minced
3 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce (from can), chopped
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa
2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon oregano
½ teaspoon allspice
¼ to ½ teaspoon cayenne
15 ounce can tomato sauce
8 ounces chicken broth
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper to taste

Sweat onions in oil until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Turn up heat to medium and add salt, pepper, beef, garlic, and chipotles; use spoon to break up beef. Add remaining dry ingredients and cook while stirring until spices become fragrant, about 3 minutes. Add wet ingredients and stir to combine well. Bring to simmer and cook uncovered 15 to 20 minutes.