Chilli con carne, clove-hot
Clove-hot chilli con carne
“I love it, too” (Nigella, p485).
I apologise that I didn’t blog at all last week. You see, it was Chris’s birthday on Sunday 28th September (last Sunday), and – as an almost rite of passage – he opted for a takeaway meal. Also, it’s certainly true that I don’t eat takeaways much now – if at all – and so I ashamedly jumped at the chance. It wasn’t just any birthday last Sunday, but Christopher’s 30th and so it really was a special occasion for him. I’ll risk sentimentality here by publically thanking him for all the hard work that he’s put in on my blog since its initial inception, reminding him that I love him lots and wishing him a belated happy birthday! Things unrelated to birthdays are going swimmingly as usual. Christopher, as well as turning 30, also has a new job. He quit his former job as a “present” to himself and was out of work for a grand total of one day before finding another one. So – ever the work horse – that’s *two* jobs that Chris has had since we moved to Buckinghamshire, whilst I am still struggling to get my head around my first and only one. And that is going very well for me at the moment. I was observed during the week – as were all the staff at some point – during a numeracy lesson by the head teacher and I was thrilled with the positive feedback that I received. Whilst I don’t think anyone goes into teaching for the glory (don’t you know that children can be the most ungrateful creatures on earth?!), it’s nice to get some positive affirmation, especially in these early days. Oh, and I also had my first “half” of parents evening last week – the other “half” to follow this week. That was another novel, eye-opening experience, but I won’t bore you any more with details of the profession.
The week before last – crikey, that seems aeons ago – I said goodbye to the chicory section and a highly successful one it was at that. As I think is apparent, I found a winning recipe with the “chicory and mustard salad” and I have a feeling that it will become my staple salad dressing from now on. Indeed, I went to the garden centre on Sunday and happened to see some seeds for “treviso.” In the summer, dad has promised to help me to plant a few seeds in the garden. I had almost decided upon sorrel and loveage and now I think I’m sold on the idea of treviso also. Certainly, it is too tempting to pass up the opportunity to have the wherewithal to make that salad at any time! And it just goes to remind me that HTE is still full of absolute gems that I just can’t wait to try. This recipe – for clove-hot chilli con carne – is not in a “section” per se, but as an individual note in the index, between the “chicory” and “chocolate” section (and by the way, how excited am I about the prospect of *that* particular section?!). So I approach this recipe now, outside of any encompassing section and as an individual, one-off meal (strange, now that I come to think of it, that this one wasn’t included in the “beef” section, but no matter).
I think it’s fair to say, that most people in the UK (never mind Mexico) have pre-conceived notions of chilli con carne. Like spaghetti bolognaise, it is one of those classic kitchen suppers that usually featured on a weekly menu. This is certainly the case if you are a child of the seventies, but I had it for dinner at least once a week and I grew up in the 90s. Everybody – deep down – must secretly believe that no food comes close to that of their childhood. As Tom Norrington-Davies would say; “just like mother used to make.” I have such a - probably completely erroneous – belief about my dad’s chilli con carne. So much so, that I actually rang him, prior to making this recipe, and asked specifically for his version, so that I could compare it to that of Nigella’s. Now, chilli con carne is such a staple food, that I don’t for one minute imagine that you would need – let alone want – another recipe, but I am loathe to keep quite about my dad’s recipe and so I’ll write it here for full nostalgic effect. In true “dad” style, there are no quantities, nor would he ever provide them. Whenever he gives me a recipe, he downright refuses to provide me with quantities or too detailed instructions, believing that all good cooking must come from personal appreciation of ingredients and an understanding of what tastes good with what etc. I must admit that being such a slave to the recipe, it is hard to trust my own culinary judgement, but I am getting better and I have learned so much that I do think that I could make – at the very least – a decent approximation of this. He writes; finely chop the onion and gently fry it in a little EVOO or oil and butter. Add the mince and brown. Add a tin of tomatoes and the same again of water and season. Add whatever herbs or spices you wish now (dad usually added a little ground cinnamon). Add a little tomato puree and ¼ teaspoon of hot chilli and 2 teaspoons of mild chilli (he uses both for the flavour, but also for the colour that the mild chilli gives to the chilli). Simmer for 10 minutes. Add some dried, soaked and cooked red kidney beans and simmer for approximately one hour, or until the texture is how you like it (you will probably need to add more water every so often) and the beans are cooked. We always ate this with rice, and I believe I have a taste-memory of eating this with a big dollop of cool Greek yoghurt, but dad abhors the notion, so I guess I didn’t after all. And there you go, *my* version of the perfect chilli con carne. And I suppose chilli is one of those wonderful foodstuffs that just about *everyone* has their own recipe for. There are whole festivals dedicated to cooking and eating the stuff. I love that about food – the enormity of the social history that underpins it.
And it seems as though Nigella also pays homage to chilli con carne throughout her books. Certainly, there is this version, but I also see chilli in Feast and the latest Nigella Express. The version in Feast looks particularly satisfying. “Cornbread-topped chilli con carne” I ask you. If there’s one thing I like more than chilli, it’s something carby to dip into it and that crispy cornbread topping just seems an absolute inspired addition. I’m only sorry it doesn’t feature in this recipe. There’s also a recipe for speedy chilli in Nigella Express – as mentioned –and it, too, looks very nice. I must add though, without meaning to sound pessimistic, that whilst the recipe remains the same in many ways (I notice that Nigella always uses mince and always cinnamon), they differ in one important way. There are no cloves in any recipe but this first. Now that shouldn’t worry me, I know that. Fashions move on and what might be a great idea in the 90s might appear a lost cause in the naughties, but Nigella is usually very consistent and it is no mean feat to see her greatest culinary ideas occur and reoccur throughout her work. Indeed, I think that the “anglicised involtini” appears - in one version or another – in pretty much every one of her books. And what about the coca-cola ham? In short, I feel that she would have held onto a winner. I am, however, choosing to remain optimistic.
Nostalgia isn’t the only reason why I am looking forward to making this. For one thing, I haven’t made a real filling, warming and heart beef dish since reinstating my blog, but for another, the recipe has some great ingredients. Of course, it is hard to go wrong with such lovely and classis fare as minced beef and the allotted vegetables, but there is also the – very welcome- addition of porcini mushrooms, which I absolutely adore. I do have a love-hate relationship with mushrooms – as I have written about before – but porcini are resolutely on my good side. I also love the idea of putting bottled barbeque sauce in a chilli con carne. I’ve never thought of adding it before, but I do like the idea. And in fact, there are some great sauces out there now. It’s just a case of tracking down one that you like and would be happy to eat again, perhaps poured over some chicken wings and baked (after all, you won’t be using the whole bottle). I am also really pleased that this version includes dark brown sugar. I always feel that there should be a very subtle sweetness to a chilli con carne, to compliment the spicy filling protein, I am not a great one for chocolate in savoury food, but I’ve always appreciated it in a chilli and I do think that the brown sugar is designed to work in the same way. The one ingredient that I am apprehensive about – to say the least – is the title ingredient – cloves. I have written before that I am not the world’s biggest fan of cloves. I think I have told you about Chris’s clove-oil for his bad tooth, and the way in which the bathroom cupboard used to reek cloves whenever opened, because of it. I think I also told you, like a good Pavlovian dog, I associated the smell of cloves with toothache! Although it wasn’t just me. My mum did the same! Gradually, throughout this blog, I came around to using cloves as an ingredient and actually began to appreciate them as an ingredient and also began to appreciate their taste. However, all that does not detract from the fact that I am still not overjoyed with them, and they can’t but strike me as a strange addition to a chilli con carne. But you know me; I am a culinary optimist and I wait to be convinced and converted.
I have made no secret of the fact that I like to cook with some loose “theme” in mind, and what was the theme of this meal, if not “Mexican?” With that in mind, I came up with a cracking little meal. Obviously, before I go any further, I should say that I served the chilli with rice (surely this is a must). I also provided a bowl of paprika-dusted sour cream for dolloping over the chilli. I also stole an idea from Nigella Express (the chowder recipe) and baked some plain tortilla chips with cheese grated over, in the oven for a scant 5 minutes, just enough time to let the cheese begin to melt sexily over those salty carbs. It occurred to me that I would also love to make a guacamole and more dipping bits and bobs, and I remembered that absolutely wonderful guacamole recipe in HTE, that I made last year. I decided to resurrect the recipe again for this meal along with the paprika-toasted potato skins that Nigella makes to go alongside. I will add the new photos to the blog as soon as time permits, but certainly don’t hold your breath this week, as I am monumentally busy. I’ll usually leave a note on the main page of my blog, when there are new photos to look at. So, my Mexican-themed meal is shaping up thusly; Clove-hot chilli con carne with rice, sour cream, tortilla chips with melted cheese and guacamole with paprika-toasted potato skins. To drink, I was so tempted to buy tequila, but sense won out (I mean come on!) and I opted for a bottle each of Corona beer, into which Chris dutifully pushed a lime segment.
Don’t ask about quantities, because there are none in HTE annoyingly enough (i.e. the recipe doesn’t specify how many it serves), and so I kept it as is, figuring that I could heat up leftovers. I halved the quantity of guacamole, originally intended for 6 and used about half a pack of tortilla chips.
The week before last – crikey, that seems aeons ago – I said goodbye to the chicory section and a highly successful one it was at that. As I think is apparent, I found a winning recipe with the “chicory and mustard salad” and I have a feeling that it will become my staple salad dressing from now on. Indeed, I went to the garden centre on Sunday and happened to see some seeds for “treviso.” In the summer, dad has promised to help me to plant a few seeds in the garden. I had almost decided upon sorrel and loveage and now I think I’m sold on the idea of treviso also. Certainly, it is too tempting to pass up the opportunity to have the wherewithal to make that salad at any time! And it just goes to remind me that HTE is still full of absolute gems that I just can’t wait to try. This recipe – for clove-hot chilli con carne – is not in a “section” per se, but as an individual note in the index, between the “chicory” and “chocolate” section (and by the way, how excited am I about the prospect of *that* particular section?!). So I approach this recipe now, outside of any encompassing section and as an individual, one-off meal (strange, now that I come to think of it, that this one wasn’t included in the “beef” section, but no matter).
I think it’s fair to say, that most people in the UK (never mind Mexico) have pre-conceived notions of chilli con carne. Like spaghetti bolognaise, it is one of those classic kitchen suppers that usually featured on a weekly menu. This is certainly the case if you are a child of the seventies, but I had it for dinner at least once a week and I grew up in the 90s. Everybody – deep down – must secretly believe that no food comes close to that of their childhood. As Tom Norrington-Davies would say; “just like mother used to make.” I have such a - probably completely erroneous – belief about my dad’s chilli con carne. So much so, that I actually rang him, prior to making this recipe, and asked specifically for his version, so that I could compare it to that of Nigella’s. Now, chilli con carne is such a staple food, that I don’t for one minute imagine that you would need – let alone want – another recipe, but I am loathe to keep quite about my dad’s recipe and so I’ll write it here for full nostalgic effect. In true “dad” style, there are no quantities, nor would he ever provide them. Whenever he gives me a recipe, he downright refuses to provide me with quantities or too detailed instructions, believing that all good cooking must come from personal appreciation of ingredients and an understanding of what tastes good with what etc. I must admit that being such a slave to the recipe, it is hard to trust my own culinary judgement, but I am getting better and I have learned so much that I do think that I could make – at the very least – a decent approximation of this. He writes; finely chop the onion and gently fry it in a little EVOO or oil and butter. Add the mince and brown. Add a tin of tomatoes and the same again of water and season. Add whatever herbs or spices you wish now (dad usually added a little ground cinnamon). Add a little tomato puree and ¼ teaspoon of hot chilli and 2 teaspoons of mild chilli (he uses both for the flavour, but also for the colour that the mild chilli gives to the chilli). Simmer for 10 minutes. Add some dried, soaked and cooked red kidney beans and simmer for approximately one hour, or until the texture is how you like it (you will probably need to add more water every so often) and the beans are cooked. We always ate this with rice, and I believe I have a taste-memory of eating this with a big dollop of cool Greek yoghurt, but dad abhors the notion, so I guess I didn’t after all. And there you go, *my* version of the perfect chilli con carne. And I suppose chilli is one of those wonderful foodstuffs that just about *everyone* has their own recipe for. There are whole festivals dedicated to cooking and eating the stuff. I love that about food – the enormity of the social history that underpins it.
And it seems as though Nigella also pays homage to chilli con carne throughout her books. Certainly, there is this version, but I also see chilli in Feast and the latest Nigella Express. The version in Feast looks particularly satisfying. “Cornbread-topped chilli con carne” I ask you. If there’s one thing I like more than chilli, it’s something carby to dip into it and that crispy cornbread topping just seems an absolute inspired addition. I’m only sorry it doesn’t feature in this recipe. There’s also a recipe for speedy chilli in Nigella Express – as mentioned –and it, too, looks very nice. I must add though, without meaning to sound pessimistic, that whilst the recipe remains the same in many ways (I notice that Nigella always uses mince and always cinnamon), they differ in one important way. There are no cloves in any recipe but this first. Now that shouldn’t worry me, I know that. Fashions move on and what might be a great idea in the 90s might appear a lost cause in the naughties, but Nigella is usually very consistent and it is no mean feat to see her greatest culinary ideas occur and reoccur throughout her work. Indeed, I think that the “anglicised involtini” appears - in one version or another – in pretty much every one of her books. And what about the coca-cola ham? In short, I feel that she would have held onto a winner. I am, however, choosing to remain optimistic.
Nostalgia isn’t the only reason why I am looking forward to making this. For one thing, I haven’t made a real filling, warming and heart beef dish since reinstating my blog, but for another, the recipe has some great ingredients. Of course, it is hard to go wrong with such lovely and classis fare as minced beef and the allotted vegetables, but there is also the – very welcome- addition of porcini mushrooms, which I absolutely adore. I do have a love-hate relationship with mushrooms – as I have written about before – but porcini are resolutely on my good side. I also love the idea of putting bottled barbeque sauce in a chilli con carne. I’ve never thought of adding it before, but I do like the idea. And in fact, there are some great sauces out there now. It’s just a case of tracking down one that you like and would be happy to eat again, perhaps poured over some chicken wings and baked (after all, you won’t be using the whole bottle). I am also really pleased that this version includes dark brown sugar. I always feel that there should be a very subtle sweetness to a chilli con carne, to compliment the spicy filling protein, I am not a great one for chocolate in savoury food, but I’ve always appreciated it in a chilli and I do think that the brown sugar is designed to work in the same way. The one ingredient that I am apprehensive about – to say the least – is the title ingredient – cloves. I have written before that I am not the world’s biggest fan of cloves. I think I have told you about Chris’s clove-oil for his bad tooth, and the way in which the bathroom cupboard used to reek cloves whenever opened, because of it. I think I also told you, like a good Pavlovian dog, I associated the smell of cloves with toothache! Although it wasn’t just me. My mum did the same! Gradually, throughout this blog, I came around to using cloves as an ingredient and actually began to appreciate them as an ingredient and also began to appreciate their taste. However, all that does not detract from the fact that I am still not overjoyed with them, and they can’t but strike me as a strange addition to a chilli con carne. But you know me; I am a culinary optimist and I wait to be convinced and converted.
I have made no secret of the fact that I like to cook with some loose “theme” in mind, and what was the theme of this meal, if not “Mexican?” With that in mind, I came up with a cracking little meal. Obviously, before I go any further, I should say that I served the chilli with rice (surely this is a must). I also provided a bowl of paprika-dusted sour cream for dolloping over the chilli. I also stole an idea from Nigella Express (the chowder recipe) and baked some plain tortilla chips with cheese grated over, in the oven for a scant 5 minutes, just enough time to let the cheese begin to melt sexily over those salty carbs. It occurred to me that I would also love to make a guacamole and more dipping bits and bobs, and I remembered that absolutely wonderful guacamole recipe in HTE, that I made last year. I decided to resurrect the recipe again for this meal along with the paprika-toasted potato skins that Nigella makes to go alongside. I will add the new photos to the blog as soon as time permits, but certainly don’t hold your breath this week, as I am monumentally busy. I’ll usually leave a note on the main page of my blog, when there are new photos to look at. So, my Mexican-themed meal is shaping up thusly; Clove-hot chilli con carne with rice, sour cream, tortilla chips with melted cheese and guacamole with paprika-toasted potato skins. To drink, I was so tempted to buy tequila, but sense won out (I mean come on!) and I opted for a bottle each of Corona beer, into which Chris dutifully pushed a lime segment.
Don’t ask about quantities, because there are none in HTE annoyingly enough (i.e. the recipe doesn’t specify how many it serves), and so I kept it as is, figuring that I could heat up leftovers. I halved the quantity of guacamole, originally intended for 6 and used about half a pack of tortilla chips.
Ingredients: Most of the ingredients are easy to find from pretty much anywhere. I say “most,” and by this I mean that one can buy the vegetables, dried chillies, spices, tomatoes and sugar from any supermarket – or indeed corner store – that you like. The problem arises with the dried borlotti beans. I found – to my absolute annoyance – that our local Tescos – a pretty large one – doesn’t stock them. Neither does our local Morrisons (but that’s hardly a shocker). In the end, I managed to track them down from a nearby Waitrose, which is actually where I found them the last time that I needed them for this blog – for the “borlotti beans with garlic and sage” recipe. I also did the rest of my shopping from Waitrose, which meant that I had no problem finding the dried porcini – available from the “special” section. If you don’t have a Waitrose near you, I would have thought that any health food shop would stock them, but I had neither the time, nor the inclination to go rooting around the town centre after work. Failing that, you could always use tinned borlotti beans, but I’d always opt for the dried pulses whenever possible. In terms of the mince, you can technically buy it from wherever you see fit, but I brought mine the day before from our local butcher. Re the barbeque sauce, you can buy any make that suits you. Indeed, bottled barbeque sauces are pretty numerous. I brought a bottle of “Jardine’s Smoky Mesquite Barbeque Sauce,” which seemed a pretty safe bet.
Price: The minced beef was £3.00 for 450g from our butcher, which I consider very reasonable. The total cost of the whole meal – the borlotti beans, garlic, celery, dried porcini, onions, carrots, minced beef, tinned tomatoes, barbeque sauce and brown sugar totalled £12.57. If you think that seems expensive, I would agree. It *does* seem expensive, but looking at the shopping list, there was no *one* expensive ingredient – the cost of the individual ingredients just added up. There were some ingredients that I didn’t need, namely the olive oil, dried chilli, cinnamon and cloves.
(Soaking the dried borlotti beans)
(The borlotti beans after one hours cooking)
(Soaking the dried porcini)
Method: I have mentioned before that I love cooking in advance and this is one such recipe that can be made in advance. Certainly, if cooking with dried beans, you will need to soak them, either overnight or for a good few hours. I soaked mine on Friday night before I went to bed, ready for use on Saturday. On Saturday morning I cooked the beans with the required additions – garlic, celery, porcini, onion and oil. Nigella doesn’t say a lot about how to do this, but I know from experience that it means bringing to the boil and then simmering for an hour. After an hour, I thought that the beans were still slightly underdone and altogether too firm, but they are cooked again later for at least an hour, so I figured that Nigella knew what she was talking about, and took them off the heat when instructed to do so.
But that wasn’t really what I meant by cooking in advance. Rather, I meant that I cooked the *entire* chilli – bar the rice of course – in advance and let it cool, ready for future heating up. Okay, it did make my life easier for me at the last minute, and it did fulfil my innate desire for afternoon kitchen putskying, but it is also the case that I think that meals such as chilli are much better when they have been pre-cooked and cooled. I just feel that the flavours have that much more time to become deeper and infused with flavour. Sometimes I feel that it is almost a waste if these things *are not* made in advance. And it is hardly a problem to cook in advance, when the recipe is as easy as this one. Basically, all you are doing is frying the ingredients in stages, before a final hour simmering. It is worth bearing in mind, that the initial vegetable “soffritto” is so large, that unless you have a very large food processor, you will need to blitz the veg in two batches. That’s what I did, and until Chris finally takes the hint and buys me a new food processor, that’s what I’ll have to continue doing with very large amounts of veg. Oh, and I followed Nigella’s daughter’s preference, and actually minced my chilli pepper with the veg in the food processor. I am used to my chilli con carne hot, and Chris loves all manner of hot food, so I figured that I was pretty safe in doing so. Anyway, one fries this soffritto for 10 minutes or so, adds the meat and spices and then the tomatoes and barbeque sauce. At this time you are also required to add the soaked porcini mushrooms. 15g of porcini actually entails a good few mushrooms and this certainly seems the case when they have expanded from their soaking. Nigella doesn’t instruct how much boiling water to soak the porcini in (I just covered my porcini by about 2cm of water), and so it is slightly worrying to add all of their soaking water, not knowing if this will result in either a too wet or too dry chilli con carne. I did dutifully add all of the soaking water as instructed, but couldn’t help feeling that it was too much water (but read on!). It is then just a case of adding the brown sugar and soaked, drained beans. After that, you are instructed to simmer for at least an hour. I did this, uncovered, on a lowish heat. And the chilli is very undemanding. It simmers nicely left to its own devices and doesn’t do anything silly like boil dry or refuse to reduce at all. Sweet relief methinks.
Whilst the chilli was simmering, I got on with some of the rest of my meal. I made the potato skins for the guacamole, for example, decanted the sour cream into a bowl, prepared some of the ingredients for the guacamole and prepared the tortilla chips for the oven. Just before I was ready to eat, and the other elements of the meal had come together – the guacamole, potato skins, sour cream and tortilla chips were on the table – I cooked the rice (I am notoriously bad at cooking rice, as I think I have written before, and so did nothing more demanding than follow the instructions on the back of the rice packet) and put the chilli back on a low heat in order to re-heat. I did find at this point, that the mixture had firmed up and dried out a little, and so I added about 2 tablespoons of boiling water to the mixture, simply to slacken it a little. It doesn’t take long to reheat and it is then just a wonderful job of ladling it out onto awaiting plates.
And what a fabulous plate this meal makes for. Imagine this; a big welcoming ladleful of steaming chilli con carne with rice, a herb-flecked, jade pile of guacamole, some burnished curved potato skins, a cool dollop of sour cream and some salty, carby tortilla chips. Now how’s that for a meal?
But that wasn’t really what I meant by cooking in advance. Rather, I meant that I cooked the *entire* chilli – bar the rice of course – in advance and let it cool, ready for future heating up. Okay, it did make my life easier for me at the last minute, and it did fulfil my innate desire for afternoon kitchen putskying, but it is also the case that I think that meals such as chilli are much better when they have been pre-cooked and cooled. I just feel that the flavours have that much more time to become deeper and infused with flavour. Sometimes I feel that it is almost a waste if these things *are not* made in advance. And it is hardly a problem to cook in advance, when the recipe is as easy as this one. Basically, all you are doing is frying the ingredients in stages, before a final hour simmering. It is worth bearing in mind, that the initial vegetable “soffritto” is so large, that unless you have a very large food processor, you will need to blitz the veg in two batches. That’s what I did, and until Chris finally takes the hint and buys me a new food processor, that’s what I’ll have to continue doing with very large amounts of veg. Oh, and I followed Nigella’s daughter’s preference, and actually minced my chilli pepper with the veg in the food processor. I am used to my chilli con carne hot, and Chris loves all manner of hot food, so I figured that I was pretty safe in doing so. Anyway, one fries this soffritto for 10 minutes or so, adds the meat and spices and then the tomatoes and barbeque sauce. At this time you are also required to add the soaked porcini mushrooms. 15g of porcini actually entails a good few mushrooms and this certainly seems the case when they have expanded from their soaking. Nigella doesn’t instruct how much boiling water to soak the porcini in (I just covered my porcini by about 2cm of water), and so it is slightly worrying to add all of their soaking water, not knowing if this will result in either a too wet or too dry chilli con carne. I did dutifully add all of the soaking water as instructed, but couldn’t help feeling that it was too much water (but read on!). It is then just a case of adding the brown sugar and soaked, drained beans. After that, you are instructed to simmer for at least an hour. I did this, uncovered, on a lowish heat. And the chilli is very undemanding. It simmers nicely left to its own devices and doesn’t do anything silly like boil dry or refuse to reduce at all. Sweet relief methinks.
Whilst the chilli was simmering, I got on with some of the rest of my meal. I made the potato skins for the guacamole, for example, decanted the sour cream into a bowl, prepared some of the ingredients for the guacamole and prepared the tortilla chips for the oven. Just before I was ready to eat, and the other elements of the meal had come together – the guacamole, potato skins, sour cream and tortilla chips were on the table – I cooked the rice (I am notoriously bad at cooking rice, as I think I have written before, and so did nothing more demanding than follow the instructions on the back of the rice packet) and put the chilli back on a low heat in order to re-heat. I did find at this point, that the mixture had firmed up and dried out a little, and so I added about 2 tablespoons of boiling water to the mixture, simply to slacken it a little. It doesn’t take long to reheat and it is then just a wonderful job of ladling it out onto awaiting plates.
And what a fabulous plate this meal makes for. Imagine this; a big welcoming ladleful of steaming chilli con carne with rice, a herb-flecked, jade pile of guacamole, some burnished curved potato skins, a cool dollop of sour cream and some salty, carby tortilla chips. Now how’s that for a meal?
(Cooking the blitzed carrots, garlic, onion, celery and chilli)
(With the added minced beef and spices)
(With the added tinned tomatoes and barbeque sauce)
(With the added porcini, soaking liquid and borlotti beans)
Result: I am almost ashamed to admit this, because it smacks of culinary self-doubt, but always when I make a meal, I am half-surprised when it turns out looking like it should. I don’t quite know how I expect things to work out – given that I would be pretty mad if things did flop – but when a meal looks exactly as I know the food should; it is a very pleasant surprise. I remember eating chilli con carne as a meat-heavy, thick, busy mixture, dotted with beans and served with rice. Well, mine looked exactly like that, which pleased me no end. Because I primarily remember my dad’s chilli which is made with red kidney beans, I did feel apprehensive about the fact that the beans were a dull brown colour and not red. I do wonder why Nigella doesn’t use red kidney beans. Certainly, I thought they were the more traditional option for a chilli, but no matter. I also felt very efficient producing such simple, hearty fare. As you can see, there were no aesthetics, no frills – just a plate of steaming hot chilli con carne with rice. And while we’re on the subject of the appearance of this meal, I must say that the whole meal really looked a feast on the plate. I always like the look of a festively piled-up plate, and this Mexican extravaganza just looked so inviting, so festive.
In terms of the taste of this meal, I will be honest now and admit that I can only give this less than a positive review. I hardly know where to start, because I was so disappointed with the meal, that I am almost tempted not to write the review and just forget the whole sorry experience. Ever the optimist though, I will begin by writing about the very positive aspects of this meal. And there *were* positive elements. The meat, for example, was lovely. I do think that it is worth buying your minced beef from a trusted butcher, because the meat made a massive difference to my enjoyment of this meal. Without the inclusion of such nice beef, I would have given up eating it way before I did. I loved everything about the meat – the taste, the flavour, the texture. I love that subtle, light, yet utterly distinctive taste of minced beef and I love the filling warmth that mince gives a meal. There is quite a lot of mince used in the chilli con carne, which is a really positive aspect of the meal. It does lend it a real heartiness that should of course be present in such a meal as this. It also adds a grainy bulkiness to the texture. Now, I know that I say that nothing could compare to my dad’s chilli con carne, but he never used butchers meat and instead opted for whatever was available (I guess having children does that to you!), and whilst his chilli was superior to Nigella’s in any number of ways, the taste of the mince was not one of them. I have written – and apologised – before about my love-hate relationship with mushrooms, and in all honesty, I wasn’t sure quite how I felt about the addition of porcini mushrooms to the chilli. For a start, they were very large and looked scarily unpalatable. Luckily, the porcini did the most decent thing that they possibly could have done, and broke up and became absorbed into the thick sauce, thus lending the sauce their oaky, smoky flavour, without concurrently putting me off with their giant fungus-like appearance. I say that they lent the chilli their dark flavour, and to an extent this is true, but the mushrooms didn’t dominate the flavour of the chilli. In fact, if you didn’t know that porcini mushrooms were in the chilli, then I very much doubt if you would recognise them. The flavour of porcini was very mild, and – as I say, simply added a dark mustiness and an almost-earthy smokiness. I know that Nigella writes that if you can’t track down porcini, to use any mushroom at all, but I would be careful about this. For one thing, not all mushrooms (and certainly not fresh), would absorb into the sauce and for another, I think you need that velvety oakiness of the porcini. I think that dried morels would be an appropriate alternative, but if you do use button mushrooms, for God’s sake don’t tell me about it. The main liquid – apart from the porcini soaking liquid – was a tin of tomatoes and they also provided the chilli with its ochre colour. In my opinion, they didn’t provide the chilli with a rich, deep almost herbal hit like some tomatoes do. In fact, the flavour of the tomatoes was very subtle and almost – dare I say it? – muted. The tinned tomatoes that I used were hardly spectacular – just Waitrose own chopped tomatoes. In future, I would be very tempted to “up” the rich tanginess of tomato by using a good bottled passata, and perhaps one with herbs. But we are in the “positive” section, and the mild tomato flavour could hardly be described as unpleasant. The other thing that I really liked about the meal was the beans. I mentioned that I was worried about the beans being still undercooked after that initial hours cooking, but I couldn’t have been happier with them. They weren’t in the least bit hard and unyielding, but neither were they a soft stodge. In fact, they had just that perfect bite which I always strive for when cooking beans. They were perfectly firm, tight and all-to delicious. I love red kidney beans, and because they would have been the more traditional option, I can’t help but feeling that I would have preferred them, but there certainly is a case – and a good one – for the borlotti beans.
I did write that I didn’t like the meal as such, and whilst I have written about what I *did* like, there were of course a lot of things that I *didn’t* like. In my opinion, there were four main problems; the cloves, the low-key flavour, the barbeque sauce and the texture (which really deserves a section all to itself). The main, ultimate problem was the cloves. My God, Nigella writes that she “infuses” the chilli with cloves, but this chilli was just absolutely dominated by them. For goodness sake, the *whole* chilli just tasted of cloves. And there was a *huge* amount of cloves in this chilli – ½ teaspoon of cloves is actually a lot. I wouldn’t have minded so much the overwhelming influence of one particular ingredient – say if that ingredient was chilli, or tomato for example, but in my opinion, cloves are such a *bizarre* ingredient to dominate and it just completely spoiled my enjoyment of the whole meal. I just didn’t understand why a perfectly reasonable recipe had to be ruined by such an odd culinary addition. And when I say ruined, I mean it. The chilli was so saturated with the taste of cloves that not only did I not enjoy it, but I didn’t even finish half of that which was on my plate. Another ground spice – cinnamon – was added also, but I didn’t get a delicate spicy infusion. Rather, I couldn’t even *taste* the cinnamon for the cloves. The other problem was the barbeque sauce. I don’t know if this is Nigella’s fault or the fault of the brand of barbeque sauce that I opted for, but the taste of barbeque sauce was also very strong. And this didn’t provide those wonderful, subtle, smoky, flame-grilled notes as I had hoped, but rather, the taste of overwhelmingly strong, almost artificial barbeque just dominated. Chris also thought this about the cloves and the barbeque sauce and so at least I am not alone in my displeasure. The other problem was that the other flavours were just far too muted. There were so many wonderful additions to this meal. I *love* tomatoes, minced beef, ground cinnamon and brown sugar – and those flavours were just nowhere to be tasted. Of course, the real problem was the lack of heat. Okay, I know that the chilli is designed for children, but a chilli should be *hot* Goddamnit, and I did mince the chilli in the food processor along with the other vegetables purposefully to make it hotter. Believe me when I say that there was little to no heat in this chilli. I need a deeply flavoured chilli, with smoky and mellow undertones and a hot bite. This chilli met none of the above criteria. And why masquerade this as a chilli in any case, when it is not hot and should rather be described as a clovey-barbeque stew?
Another thing that I did not like about this meal was the texture. It was a little too thick for my liking. As I say, I added all of the porcini soaking liquid and I was initially worried that it would result in too wet a chilli, but I did find that on cooking the chilli for an hour, the sauce reduced a *lot.* Because I made the chilli earlier on in the day for later reheating, the sauce had thickened even more by the time I came to heat it up, and I had to add a little water, to stop the thick mince from burning to the bottom of the pan. This was hardly a real problem, because it is not difficult to add a little water, but I would have liked the chilli more “spoonable.” I wouldn’t advise you to add more porcini soaking liquid – this chilli has a tendency towards being bland anyway, so why maximise that with more water? – but with perhaps another half-tin of tomatoes. I am sure that that addition would make the chilli “wetter,” but also add more much-needed depth of flavour.
I do understand that this might not be Nigella’s recipe per se that I dislike, but rather her take on a chilli con carne for children. I certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying another of her chillies, particularly the cornbread-topped chilli from Feast. In short, I am not put off from the notion of making chillies. I am a little annoyed that I didn’t enjoy this very much – if at all – and I certainly wouldn’t make *this* version again.
Annoyingly, the other parts of the meal were really very nice. Rice, for example, is always the perfect accompaniment to chilli – how could it not be? I will save any comments about the guacamole for my new post, but suffice to say that I really liked it. The sour cream was nice with the chilli, but in truth it wasn’t needed to offset the nonexistent spiciness of the chilli. Those cheese tortilla chips were gorgeous, and in fact it was probably those starchy little triangles which kept me from mutinously throwing out the whole meal. In short, I wouldn’t alter any of those accompaniments the next time I make chilli. And there will be a next time; it just won’t feature this particular chilli con carne. In fact, looking through “Feast,” I see very similar accompaniments, so at least I was on the right track with that at least.
In terms of the taste of this meal, I will be honest now and admit that I can only give this less than a positive review. I hardly know where to start, because I was so disappointed with the meal, that I am almost tempted not to write the review and just forget the whole sorry experience. Ever the optimist though, I will begin by writing about the very positive aspects of this meal. And there *were* positive elements. The meat, for example, was lovely. I do think that it is worth buying your minced beef from a trusted butcher, because the meat made a massive difference to my enjoyment of this meal. Without the inclusion of such nice beef, I would have given up eating it way before I did. I loved everything about the meat – the taste, the flavour, the texture. I love that subtle, light, yet utterly distinctive taste of minced beef and I love the filling warmth that mince gives a meal. There is quite a lot of mince used in the chilli con carne, which is a really positive aspect of the meal. It does lend it a real heartiness that should of course be present in such a meal as this. It also adds a grainy bulkiness to the texture. Now, I know that I say that nothing could compare to my dad’s chilli con carne, but he never used butchers meat and instead opted for whatever was available (I guess having children does that to you!), and whilst his chilli was superior to Nigella’s in any number of ways, the taste of the mince was not one of them. I have written – and apologised – before about my love-hate relationship with mushrooms, and in all honesty, I wasn’t sure quite how I felt about the addition of porcini mushrooms to the chilli. For a start, they were very large and looked scarily unpalatable. Luckily, the porcini did the most decent thing that they possibly could have done, and broke up and became absorbed into the thick sauce, thus lending the sauce their oaky, smoky flavour, without concurrently putting me off with their giant fungus-like appearance. I say that they lent the chilli their dark flavour, and to an extent this is true, but the mushrooms didn’t dominate the flavour of the chilli. In fact, if you didn’t know that porcini mushrooms were in the chilli, then I very much doubt if you would recognise them. The flavour of porcini was very mild, and – as I say, simply added a dark mustiness and an almost-earthy smokiness. I know that Nigella writes that if you can’t track down porcini, to use any mushroom at all, but I would be careful about this. For one thing, not all mushrooms (and certainly not fresh), would absorb into the sauce and for another, I think you need that velvety oakiness of the porcini. I think that dried morels would be an appropriate alternative, but if you do use button mushrooms, for God’s sake don’t tell me about it. The main liquid – apart from the porcini soaking liquid – was a tin of tomatoes and they also provided the chilli with its ochre colour. In my opinion, they didn’t provide the chilli with a rich, deep almost herbal hit like some tomatoes do. In fact, the flavour of the tomatoes was very subtle and almost – dare I say it? – muted. The tinned tomatoes that I used were hardly spectacular – just Waitrose own chopped tomatoes. In future, I would be very tempted to “up” the rich tanginess of tomato by using a good bottled passata, and perhaps one with herbs. But we are in the “positive” section, and the mild tomato flavour could hardly be described as unpleasant. The other thing that I really liked about the meal was the beans. I mentioned that I was worried about the beans being still undercooked after that initial hours cooking, but I couldn’t have been happier with them. They weren’t in the least bit hard and unyielding, but neither were they a soft stodge. In fact, they had just that perfect bite which I always strive for when cooking beans. They were perfectly firm, tight and all-to delicious. I love red kidney beans, and because they would have been the more traditional option, I can’t help but feeling that I would have preferred them, but there certainly is a case – and a good one – for the borlotti beans.
I did write that I didn’t like the meal as such, and whilst I have written about what I *did* like, there were of course a lot of things that I *didn’t* like. In my opinion, there were four main problems; the cloves, the low-key flavour, the barbeque sauce and the texture (which really deserves a section all to itself). The main, ultimate problem was the cloves. My God, Nigella writes that she “infuses” the chilli with cloves, but this chilli was just absolutely dominated by them. For goodness sake, the *whole* chilli just tasted of cloves. And there was a *huge* amount of cloves in this chilli – ½ teaspoon of cloves is actually a lot. I wouldn’t have minded so much the overwhelming influence of one particular ingredient – say if that ingredient was chilli, or tomato for example, but in my opinion, cloves are such a *bizarre* ingredient to dominate and it just completely spoiled my enjoyment of the whole meal. I just didn’t understand why a perfectly reasonable recipe had to be ruined by such an odd culinary addition. And when I say ruined, I mean it. The chilli was so saturated with the taste of cloves that not only did I not enjoy it, but I didn’t even finish half of that which was on my plate. Another ground spice – cinnamon – was added also, but I didn’t get a delicate spicy infusion. Rather, I couldn’t even *taste* the cinnamon for the cloves. The other problem was the barbeque sauce. I don’t know if this is Nigella’s fault or the fault of the brand of barbeque sauce that I opted for, but the taste of barbeque sauce was also very strong. And this didn’t provide those wonderful, subtle, smoky, flame-grilled notes as I had hoped, but rather, the taste of overwhelmingly strong, almost artificial barbeque just dominated. Chris also thought this about the cloves and the barbeque sauce and so at least I am not alone in my displeasure. The other problem was that the other flavours were just far too muted. There were so many wonderful additions to this meal. I *love* tomatoes, minced beef, ground cinnamon and brown sugar – and those flavours were just nowhere to be tasted. Of course, the real problem was the lack of heat. Okay, I know that the chilli is designed for children, but a chilli should be *hot* Goddamnit, and I did mince the chilli in the food processor along with the other vegetables purposefully to make it hotter. Believe me when I say that there was little to no heat in this chilli. I need a deeply flavoured chilli, with smoky and mellow undertones and a hot bite. This chilli met none of the above criteria. And why masquerade this as a chilli in any case, when it is not hot and should rather be described as a clovey-barbeque stew?
Another thing that I did not like about this meal was the texture. It was a little too thick for my liking. As I say, I added all of the porcini soaking liquid and I was initially worried that it would result in too wet a chilli, but I did find that on cooking the chilli for an hour, the sauce reduced a *lot.* Because I made the chilli earlier on in the day for later reheating, the sauce had thickened even more by the time I came to heat it up, and I had to add a little water, to stop the thick mince from burning to the bottom of the pan. This was hardly a real problem, because it is not difficult to add a little water, but I would have liked the chilli more “spoonable.” I wouldn’t advise you to add more porcini soaking liquid – this chilli has a tendency towards being bland anyway, so why maximise that with more water? – but with perhaps another half-tin of tomatoes. I am sure that that addition would make the chilli “wetter,” but also add more much-needed depth of flavour.
I do understand that this might not be Nigella’s recipe per se that I dislike, but rather her take on a chilli con carne for children. I certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying another of her chillies, particularly the cornbread-topped chilli from Feast. In short, I am not put off from the notion of making chillies. I am a little annoyed that I didn’t enjoy this very much – if at all – and I certainly wouldn’t make *this* version again.
Annoyingly, the other parts of the meal were really very nice. Rice, for example, is always the perfect accompaniment to chilli – how could it not be? I will save any comments about the guacamole for my new post, but suffice to say that I really liked it. The sour cream was nice with the chilli, but in truth it wasn’t needed to offset the nonexistent spiciness of the chilli. Those cheese tortilla chips were gorgeous, and in fact it was probably those starchy little triangles which kept me from mutinously throwing out the whole meal. In short, I wouldn’t alter any of those accompaniments the next time I make chilli. And there will be a next time; it just won’t feature this particular chilli con carne. In fact, looking through “Feast,” I see very similar accompaniments, so at least I was on the right track with that at least.
(After one day's mellowing)
Other person’s perspective: Chris thought that this was a real let down, and in fact, he was upset for me – taking my time for such a disappointing result. He said this was not a real chilli con carne. It tasted of cloves and barbeque sauce and wasn’t nearly hot enough. He says that he could have done better just from his imagination.
(The paprika-dusted sour cream)
(The melted cheese tortilla chips)
Future changes: There are plenty of things that I could write about here. I would up the quantities of the chilli and the tomatoes and omit the cloves and the barbeque sauce for example. In reality, however, I wouldn’t bother making this recipe again. The next time I want to make chilli, I plan on using a different recipe.
(Check out this plate: clove-hot chilli con carne with rice and sour cream with guacamole and paprika-toasted potato skins and melted cheese tortilla chips)
Rating: Chris rates this 1/5 and I rate it (ever the optimist) as 2/5, therefore it receives a diplomatic 1 ½ / 5.
