He won the entire deal. He managed to enter the contest. He dumped them into his own pot and took those samples. Eventually, he asked folks to taste a bit of their chili in a cup made of Styrofoam. He was strolling around, sipping on a cold koozie while chitchatting. Now, he set up his cooking area here, but he wasn’t cooking. Picture a desert scene with about a hundred folks in camp cooking chili on stoves, wearing chili cooking aprons and straw hats. There were campers and pickup trucks around. If you listen enough, it wasn’t that bad of a take.
Now, that may seem hilarious to you and me, but it ain’t one bit funny to a chilihead. That’s what they call themselves, the fundamentalists of the chili religion, the “chiligious,” if you will. They love chili like a nun loves Jesus or like Trump loves himself. And almost every weekend they’re off to one of the five hundred sanctioned cook-offs in their big fancy motor homes with bumper stickers like this:
They buy chili-related shirts and chili-related dog sweaters. They write chili blogs, read chili magazines, and have tackle boxes or sewing kits packed with exotic chili powders that you and I have never heard of.
Thousands of chiliheads have been making the pilgrimage to the dusty ghost town of Terlingua for the annual fall fight for chili supremacy for fifty years now. Last year, I decided to go check it out. Like any major religion, there have been doctrinal schisms. Yep. The first thing I learned is that there are two cook-offs. (Is tofu con chili a thing?) When Carroll Shelby, one of the founders and race-car drivers of the Terlingua chili cook-off, was in California, he split off from his friends to do their own thing. Thankfully, since 1975, the chili cook-off has not literally thrown a stone apart.
Rumor has it that “Terlingua,” which comes from the Spanish phrase “lenguas tres,” is the name given to this place where three warring Indian tribes, the Comanche, Shawnee, and Apache, peacefully gathered here to share the only source of water. They spoke three different languages, referred to as the three tongues.
Put your toes away, men from Texas. It needs to be said, but we need to move on from this topic. You’re not doing that in flip-flops, and a man needs to be ready to kick out a rattlesnake on the path of a crawling baby, but believe me, call me old-fashioned. A man’s toes don’t belong in flip-flops, just like chili doesn’t have beans in it. It’s frijoles y carne con chili, not just carne con chili.
1967:
It started as a publicity stunt to promote Tolbert’s book and Shelby’s West Texas real estate schemes. Hence Chili. Hence Terlingua. It pitted two cooks against each other: the good guy, Wick Fowler, versus the bad guy, Allen Smith. It was all a big goof and declared a draw when one of the judges scorched his taste buds. The next year masked bandits stole the ballot box and threw it down a mine shaft. That kind of thing. Each new year brought more cooks, more rules, more bickering.
Is this a significant disagreement? Yes. Lawyers were involved. Is it trivial? Yes. When it comes to popular opinion, most people seem to be discussing something related to topping hot dogs. Is it a significant deal? Not really. It appears to still be a subject of discussion among a few older individuals, but it doesn’t hold much importance for everyone else. It’s like having two Baptist churches in one town – it’s not particularly significant to anyone else. They go to one they go to. I think other people could learn a lesson from this. Yes, I’m talking about Shiites and Sunnis.
Friday
The landscape impresses me. Despite being 83 years old, he has the smile and agile eyebrows of someone much younger. One of the initial chili cooks I encounter is John Billy Murray, the 1984 Tolbert champion.
I wonder how Chili keeps turning orange when he eats it. Tom, the big white mustache cowboy, has a cowboy boss at Camp Cowboy named Nall Fowler. Since 1972, it seems like Tom has been around the beginning of Wick’s Chili Alarm 2 Wick’s as the first salesman. He had a lot of success with it, based on his warm handshake and smile. He raised money for Wick’s by doing things like running authentic cowboy activities and decking out others who work at Camp Cowboy. The food at Camp Cowboy is great, with roasted goat and all the fixings. The cowboys at Camp Cowboy host a big potluck dinner. Something nice happens in the evening.
With empty pockets and a satisfied soul and stomach, it’s time to go to Krazy Flats for a visual treat.
I cannot be sure if it is possible for a pitmaster preparing butt pork to oil it. While strolling through the darkened alleys, I accidentally caught a glimpse of a tent flap flapping open. To worsen matters, I think I may have stumbled upon some copulation happening in those crazy alleys. It’s possible that those who are not aware of the spelling might not realize that “K” doesn’t stand for crazy. And for those who are here for chili, they might be disappointed to know that they won’t find any. I think it’s the wrong crowd that it attracts. All of this makes me cringe, but maybe I’m just being too sober or prudish. Both male and female exhibitionists, who are overaged and overfed, are giving their all at Whataburger. If you understand what I mean, then things are in full swing.
So, Who Won?
Lisa Stone, who prepared meals alongside her mother and her daughter, claimed the top spot at CASI. T. J. Cannon, who could have cooked it a bit longer, secured second place. Surprisingly, Deanna Castillo emerged as the winner at Tolbert’s. Can you believe that her husband, Herman, came in second? Larry Wilton finished in seventh place. And now, the suspenseful moment…
John Billy Murray didn’t come in a position, but he wasn’t shocked.
How does the judging work?
When it comes to imagining what qualities account for a perfect chili, judges rate it on a scale of one to ten, with each cup being evaluated.
Fragrance: It should have the aroma of chili, not beef stew or, Heaven forbid, cinnamon.
Color: It is referred to as a bowl of crimson for a reason.
Consistency: The meat should be tender, but not soft. The chili should not be too thick or thin, lumpy or oily.
Flavor: Chili taste; cumin; spicy but not overly spicy, or overly salty, or sweet; equilibrium.
Aftertaste: Occasionally referred to as “back heat.” A intricate blossoming of tastes without any harshness.
So, how was the chili?
We have a reputation to uphold and this is Texas. This is not Ohio where spaghetti sauce doubles as chili. I just want a little pep. I don’t even like crazy-hot stuff. It wasn’t very spicy. It was all delicious, so this is the very best of the very best. Don’t get me wrong, it was great. It wasn’t that hot, well.
Saturday
At Tolbert’s, John Bill Murray is an expert at preparing meatballs. Starting at nine in the morning, the majority of the chefs are fully engaged in this task. When it reaches high noon, it’s time to present their creations, much like a typical West Texas showdown. The chili cooks are now in full swing.
Larry Walton, the 2011 CASI champion, who is currently preparing chili at both occasions, appears surprisingly calm.
At CASI, the chefs are getting ready for submission.
Tom Dozier has provided Deanna Castillo and Herman Everett, a married couple from the area, with a few suggestions as they submerge serrano peppers in their cooking pots. They are still relatively inexperienced with this activity.
Embraces and handclasps, celebratory palm slaps commend the chefs with a ceremonial escort organized by the CASI committee. Individuals approaching a seat of power tightly grip their large Styrofoam cups, while a queue of 327 chili cooks at CASI forms as midday approaches.
I am fortunate enough to be a judge in the final round, humbly taking my place at the table due to my culinary reputation. That’s right. Then they called me. After a couple of hours later, they’ve narrowed it down to the final 24 contestants, judging from four preliminary rounds.
Thursday
One thing that will surprise you about a chili cook-off is how hard it is to get any chili. The only surefire way is if you volunteer to be a judge. So when I show up at Tolbert’s, that’s my mission.
Departing with sparklers, this sensation is reminiscent of visiting a fireworks vendor. However, I am capable of evaluating the black-eyed peas. Additionally, I can assess all the barbecue as well. Unfortunately, all the spots for evaluating chili have already been claimed by the time I have determined whom to converse with.
Luckily, there is another cook-off down the road.
Kris Hudspeth, a chili cook from a long line of chili cooks, informs me amidst the sounds of his walkie-talkie, that the new director predicts a threefold increase in attendance due to the necessary infrastructure at CASI.
It’s true. They even have a temporary police station strategically placed in what’s known to be the wild part of the CASI town. We might as well get into this now, I guess. See, each cook-off has a sort of camp-within-the-camp. At CASI, it’s separated from the chili-cooking sector by a dry creek bed and it’s called Krazy Flats. It’s the night spot, the red-light district. Every night, sunburnt drunk people cruise around in dune buggies and ATVs. They hop on and off a neon-covered party bus as it makes laps blaring frat jams. And when Krazy Flatters really cut loose, they gather at a tent bar called Wally’s Pole and Grill, where there’s free booze and grub, more neon, and yes, it’s true, a stripper pole. It’s mid-morning when I first see it, so thankfully the pole is unoccupied. I’ll check back later, you know, for research. Over at Tolbert’s, the side camp is just over a ridge and it’s known as Cowboy Camp. When I get there, it’s deserted. Indian raid?
They eat tacos. Just kidding, I’m not. Every year, they go down the road to a cute little Asian fusion place for lunch with friends and deliver gifts. Nope, they haven’t gone to Mexico, despite what they’ve said.
Can You Do It?
How did James Burns, two years ago, win his first CASI chili cook-off just like the time it happens every year? Yes, that is the answer. I wonder if I could compete in the rarefied world of chili championships and walk like a rookie, thinking, “Hey, maybe you’re like me and you’re thinking.”
I have taken the initiative and completed that task for you.
Additionally, here are a few ….
Don, the founder of the cook-off, was warmly welcomed with a big grin and a wink when he arrived at the Sky, the cook-off that was held years ago. I think the rest of the founders, Shelby and Tolbert, were just like Don, appreciating the shenanigans. And later, a few years after Don’s death, when Governor Rick Perry drafted a pardon for him, Don returned to Terlingua to cook in the cook-off. Maybe that’s why he became a bona fide chilihead in Illinois, driving from his home to cook in the cook-off years ago. Perhaps he was embarrassed about the whole deal, just like everyone else, and wondered what happened to Don when his winnings were stripped and he was out of course. So, you might be wondering what happened to Don ol’ and why he went on to become a chilihead.