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

---

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

Zucchini Nut Bread, or, Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

I found Eleanor's wartime ration books recently while looking through some old family photos. I'm fascinated by the way her young adulthood was completely transformed by the onset of World War II-- she dealt with rationing, a fiance at war, a manufacturing job... all things I will never face, and she did it with aplomb. The ration books, especially, are completely foreign objects to me: I don't understand how they work or how they were used, and most of all I don't understand why she was able to save two mostly-full books. Didn't she need the coupons inside? These were the conditions under which Eleanor learned to cook when she was in her early 20s. Eleanor was 18 when World War II began, and nearly 25 when it ended. That means that her formative cooking years were characterised by rations, Victory Gardens, and the complete lack of many 'luxury' ingredients that I consider staples. I think her style adapted accordingly: if you learn to cook during times of hardship, then maybe that becomes a skill you'll always have.

This recipe for Zucchini Bread (or, as it would be known here in Scotland, Courgette Tea Cake) has made it through three generations in my family: Eleanor made it for her family, my mom made it for me, and now I make it for us. It's easy to see why this recipe persists across generational boundaries: it's simple, affordable, and the ingredients are nearly always in season. Even during World War II, this recipe would have been more straightforward than many others because it contains no butter and no milk, and the courgettes included can easily be grown in most climates, so they wouldn't need to be transported very far. Plus, even though there's a large amount of sugar contained in this recipe, it also makes a huge amount of bread, so the payoff is definitely worth it.

Judging by the stains on this recipe, Eleanor must have made this bread many times, and I'm glad she did, because it was one of my favourite treats when I was growing up. (Right up there with my mom's pound cake and her macaroni and cheese... both of which she also nicked from Eleanor's collection). This bread is the kind of thing you can make on a Sunday and enjoy all week as a quick breakfast before you go to work. Or the kind of thing you can take to a sick friend to help them recover. It's just as good no matter whether you enjoy it with your bowling league (like Eleanor), with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle (like my mom), or at your desk with a latte during an early work morning (like me). I love adaptable recipes like this one, and I love that I can trace this recipe through three generations of my family. I may never have been able to make this recipe with Eleanor, but it's still special to me to know that I'm cooking the same things she did, seventy years later on a different continent.

I think that's the beauty of family recipes: they unite us across time and place, making our family history into bite-sized pieces that we can share across generations. My passion for family cooking is why I'm so glad to be participating in Project STIR, a cool new cooking project developed by fellow blogger Sarah Shotts. Project STIR is a series of documentary films launching this fall on Kickstarter. The films will follow Abuelitas, Nans & Mamaws passing down heirloom recipes in kitchens around the globe including countries like: Panama, New Zealand, Turkey, Croatia & England. Click here to learn more about how to be involved.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This recipe is easy, versatile, and nearly foolproof. It's delicious as breakfast, a snack, or even as dessert. Best of all, it exemplifies everything I love about this project: it's a recipe passed down through the generations of my family that I'm now cooking in my Scottish kitchen under a totally different name... but still tasting just as delicious!

Check out Project STIR and all the cool stuff they are doing to make sure family recipes like this one are preserved for the future, and while you're at it, try this courgette bread-- you'll love it!

The recipe:

Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

the directions:

Grease and flour two medium loaf pans, or, like me, one large and one small loaf pan.
Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Chop or break nuts into medium pieces.
Beat eggs, then gradually beat in sugar and oil.
In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder.
Add dry ingredients to egg mixture, alternating with zucchini/courgette.
Stir in nuts, vanilla, and raisins (if using).
Pour into loaf pans and cook on the bottom rack of the oven for 55 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Remove from oven, let cool for 10 minutes, then turn onto a rack to cool.

the ingredients:

1 c walnuts
4 eggs
2 c sugar
1 c vegetable oil
3 ½ c flour
1 ½ t baking soda
1 ½ t salt
2 t cinnamon
¾ t baking powder
2 c zucchini/courgette, grated
1 t vanilla
1 c raisins (optional)

Sky-High Biscuits and Strawberry Nut Shortcakes

I've never made biscuits successfully. The ones I used for this strawberry shortcake recipe in the spring were pretty great, but, technically, they were shortcakes, not biscuits. I don't know if I can legitimately say that I have now made biscuits successfully, because although these were really good, any experienced biscuit-maker would tell you that they aren't, technically, biscuits. Strictly speaking, according to my Southern grandmother (not Eleanor) and also every Southern cook I've ever met, a biscuit has only four ingredients (flour, baking powder, butter, and milk, I think). This particular recipe has way more than that, including two types of flour, egg, sugar, and cream of tartar, which, I'm happy to report, is completely optional, as I couldn't find any (though Judson did try to purchase a bottle of tartar sauce when I asked him to check at the grocery store near his office).

The biscuit recipe is in pristine condition and dated 1983, so I think it's a safe bet Eleanor never made these. Scornful of all things Southern, I was surprised to find this recipe in the box at all-- maybe the whole wheat flour convinced her they would be worth making, or maybe she, like me, just needed a vehicle for her strawberry shortcakes.

Anyway, I've been wanting to make this recipe for strawberry nut shortcake before the summer ended, but I kept finding excuses-- until I found the most perfect and beautiful wee little 'woodland strawberries' at the fruit stand last weekend. They were so round and perfect they looked like wild strawberries, and I knew they'd be perfect for this recipe. But since the shortcake recipe calls for 'biscuit mix,' which doesn't exist over here in the land where biscuits are cookies, I had no choice but to make mine from scratch. Luckily, the box came to my rescue on that front as well. Incidentally, the only other key ingredient for this recipe that I couldn't find was 'whipped topping,' which is ironic because the recipe comes on the back of the lid to a container of Dover Farms Whipped Dairy Topping. Definitely not complaining, though, as homemade whipped cream beats out the stuff in the tub any day of the week, so I ended up with a completely from-scratch dessert that was surprisingly easy to put together. Plus, in Scotland there's a dessert called cranachan that's basically just crumbled cookies, mashed raspberries, and whisky-infused whipped cream... which gave me the idea of adding just a dash of whisky to the whipped cream in this recipe. We did not regret that decision. If you're not a whisky drinker but you have some bourbon on hand, put a capful in your whipped cream-- it will change your life.

If you're dying for one last summertime dessert before the autumn sets in and you live in a place where you can still get decent strawberries, make this. You won't regret it. Bonus points if you make the biscuits from scratch-- plus, you'll have leftover biscuits that go GREAT with clotted cream and jam.

Seriously, though-- these two recipes are super easy. The biscuits come together in no time, and keep for three days at room temperature. The actual strawberry shortcakes are super simple-- sliced strawberries, a dash of sugar, and a cloud of whipped cream and you're good to go. But if you're in a real hurry, you could even skip the biscuits and just have strawberries and cream. No one would mind, I promise.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. These strawberry shortcakes are delicious, and somehow so much more than the sum of their (amazing) parts. Make these quick and enjoy the Indian Summer we seem to all be experiencing.

The recipe:

Sky-High Biscuits

the directions:

Preheat oven to 232C/450F.
Combine flours, baking powder, sugar, and salt.
Cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal.
Work quickly to avoid mixture getting soft.
Add egg and milk, stirring quickly just until mixture comes together.
Flour your countertop and knead very gently and quickly.
Pat gently to 1” thickness.
Cut into 1-2” biscuits and place on a cookie sheet about 1” apart.
Bake 12-15 minutes until crisp and golden.

Yields 10 biscuits

the ingredients:

1 c flour
½ c whole wheat flour
2 ¼ tsp baking powder
1 tbsp sugar
¼ tsp salt
3 oz butter
½ egg, beaten
½ c milk

the recipe:

Strawberry Nut Shortcake

the directions:

Sprinkle strawberries with sugar and set aside.
Whip cream with vanilla and brown sugar until fluffy.
Split each biscuit, and scoop strawberries on top of the bottom half of the biscuit.
Add whipped cream sprinkle of nuts, and the top of the biscuit.
Serve immediately and enjoy immensely.

Yields 4 strawberry shortcakes

the ingredients:

2 c strawberries, sliced
2 tbsp sugar, or less if your strawberries are particularly sweet
1 c whipping cream
1 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp brown sugar
4 biscuits (recipe above)
½ c pecans