[tta_listen_btn]
A Story and a Recipe
It was a crisp late-fall evening in Vermont. I arrived from New York almost too late to see what I had come for. Every year I made the pilgrimage north to see the fall foliage and to rest and rejuvenate my soul. It was colder than usual this year, and soon the snow would be falling. I drove up the Taconic State Parkway, hopping on the picturesque route in Dutchess County, and took Routes 22 and 7, and then 9 into Vermont – the scenic route the whole way. Beautiful and exhilarating. Just what the doctor ordered, I thought.
Fall is tourist season in Vermont. People come from all over to see the luscious summer green leaves turn to brightest shades of orange, red, and yellow.
It was already on the late side when I arrived in Bennington, and it appeared as though everyone else was taking this last opportunity to see the magnificence of the New England state before all the leaves fell from their trees. Traffic was backed up for miles along Route 9. I needed a rest anyway, so I drove up to the historic monument – a tribute to the Battle of Bennington in 1777 – and bought myself a soda pop at the gift shop situated along the circular drive. I was on vacation, and if I didn’t continue onward toward my destination, I would have been quite happy to spend my seven days at that peaceful rest stop with its spectacular views of the Green Mountains. I went to the top of Bennington Battle Monument and took some pictures of the valley down below, lingering there just long enough to watch the sun set.
Back on Route 9, it was smooth sailing all the way into Wilmington. It was dark by the time I got there, and the full moon was rising. Everything in town had already closed for the night, including most of the eateries. I was hungry and tired. Any quick bite at that point would do. The Inn where I’d be staying was still another thirty minutes up the road. I headed for the local grocery store, assuming it would be open till 8 or 9.
Driving through the quaint little town, I spotted an open bar and grill – a dive really – but it was the only place that had an outside light on. It beckoned me – a beacon in the night that let me know I had arrived safely and would be well taken care of inside. The décor of the old bar was outdated, but surprisingly pleasant. It had all the accoutrements one would expect in any tavern nestled in a small, remote New England town; and the patrons were oh so friendly – the quintessence of Vermont. I sat in a booth and ordered an iced tea.
“Hi. What can I get you?” The waitress asked.
“Do you have something good and fast? I have to get back on the road,” I said.
“Hold on, I’ll check.” Two minutes later a man strolled up to my table, the owner I presumed.
“I hear you’re in a hurry and you want something good to eat,” he said.
“And fast,” I said. “I still have some driving ahead of me. Anything you have that’s fast would be great, a sandwich or burger, if the grill is still open.”
“How about some of my five-alarm chili? It’s been simmering all afternoon. It’s tomorrow’s Special of the Day, but it’s perfect for eat’n right now. It’s the best in town, I can promise you that. Care to try some?”
At that hour, it was the only chili in town, I suspected. But he made it sound so good – it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. “Sure,” I said. “It sounds perfect actually. Sign me up.” Chili was one of my favorite dishes, but I had never had five 5-alarm chili before.
Growing up, my mother made the dish often – my father loved it. But she didn’t make it spicy. Being 5-Alarm, I didn’t know whether I was going to love it or hate it. But I was so ravenous, I didn’t care. At that point, I would have eaten just about anything.
When the chili arrived, I thanked the owner and raised my spoon.
“No. Wait,” he said. “You can’t eat it yet. Not until you put the cheese on it.” I wondered why he put a bowl of cheese in front of me. “It’s sharp cheddar,” he said. “I put it on the side, so you can add as much or as little as you want.” I never had cheese on my chili before, and I didn’t want to offend the man who was so proud of his famous-around-town recipe. So, I sprinkled a small amount near the side of my bowl. “When it melts, it’s perfect,” he added. I waited a moment for the cheese to melt, and with some hesitancy, tried a spoonful.
“Oh my God,” I said way too loudly. I took a huge swig of my iced tea. Five alarm! He wasn’t kidding. I then tasted it without the cheese. Either way, it was the best chili I had ever eaten. I sprinkled some more of the cheese over the top of my bowl.
Laughing heartily, he said, “You’re obviously not from around here. You gotta put some cheese on that chili. It won’t bite you.” He was right. As good as it was, it needed more cheese. By the time I finished my bowl of chili, the side bowl of cheese was gone, and I was on my second glass of iced tea. My mouth was on fire – but in a good way. A very good way indeed.
When I finished my meal, I was challenged to a game of pool – I lost. I lost the rematch too. Feeling overly satiated and ready for a good night’s sleep, I thanked the owner for the great food and the boys at the bar for the company. I continued on my journey, up Route 100, to my destination.
I found myself going back to the bar numerous times that week. Had a bowl of chili twice more – each time it tasted better than the time before. By the time my vacation was over, I was a regular at that little hole in the wall – no longer a flatlander, but a welcomed Vermonter. While I never did learn its name or the name of the owner, I would remember this place fondly.
Now I live in the south. I sometimes think of that bar, the friends I met, and that amazing 5-Alarm chili. Over the years, I’ve eaten many bowls of chili in many restaurants. Not one bowl even came close to tasting as good.
When I failed to find anything as good in restaurants, I began searching for great chili recipes in cookbooks and online. And still, I could never find one that tasted as good as the chili I had in Vermont. So, I began the process of creating my own. Starting with the basic ingredients. It tasted like my mother’s. Good, but nothing to write home about. Each time I made it, I tried different spices. Some I liked. Some I didn’t. And some were just too hot and spicy. As my family and I consumed vats and vats of chili, I discovered that not everyone in my family liked their chili as hot as I did. So, I toned it down a little bit and eventually developed the perfect recipe that satisfied everyone. I called it Vermont Chili. And when I wanted a little extra heat, I divided the recipe in two, and added additional spices to the second pot. With 3-alarm chili for the family members who liked less heat, and 5-alarm for the rest of us, this chili was the one dish that everyone in my family loved to eat. And they asked for it time and time again.
I hope you like it. Bon Appetit!
3-Alarm and 5-Alarm Vermont Chili Recipe
Makes 6 Servings
3-Alarm Ingredients:
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1-pound ground beef – 85% lean or higher
1 large onion – chopped
6 cloves fresh garlic – chopped
3 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon sugar
2 28 oz. cans no salt crushed tomatoes
1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
½ cup red wine – substitute with water, if necessary
2 15-ounce cans red kidney beans – undrained
8 ounces shredded extra sharp cheddar cheese
Adding the 5-Alarm Heat
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon additional hot pepper sauce
1/2 teaspoon hot paprika
Directions:
-
1. Start with the 3-alarm ingredients.
2. Mix the dry ingredients in a small bowl and set aside.
3. In a large saucepan, over medium heat, add the olive oil. When hot, add the onions and sauté’ for two minutes. Add garlic and sauté’ for another two minutes. Add the meat and cook until browned. Do not drain.
4. Add the crushed tomatoes and hot pepper sauce and stir.
5. Add the dry ingredients from the bowl you set aside earlier and stir.
6. Add the kidney beans and stir.
7. To make your chili 5-alarm, add in the red pepper flakes, hot paprika, and one additional teaspoon of sugar if desired.
8. Reduce heat and let simmer for two hours.
9. Serve hot with shredded cheddar cheese.
For Slow Cooker
This recipe easily adapts itself to a slow cooker. Over medium heat, Sauté the onions and garlic in the olive oil, add the meat and cook until browned. Add all the ingredients to the slow cooker, stir, and cook on low for 8 hours or or high heat for 4 hours.
by Lorrie Lush
Copyright (c) 2023 Lorrie Lush. All Rights Reserved.