The fact that not too many people have ever heard of Terlingua Texas is not surprising. Eighty kilometers north of the Mexican border, situated on an insignificant highway in the dessert about halfway between San Antonio and El Paso, Terlingua and its 2,350 inhabitants are hardly at the epicenter of world cultural development. Tom Clahey, a former mayor of Terlingua once observed that his town "is so isolated that even the coyotes and rattlesnakes don't bother to come here".

All of which is not quite fair, for every year, on the second weekend of November, more than 25,000 Americans make their way from as far away as Hawaii and Alaska for the sole purpose of visiting Terlingua. One might justifiably wonder just what it is that attracts these hordes. There is not a decent restaurant in town, Pavarotti has never performed here and, with the possible exception of a quick stopover to use the restroom at the local petrol station, not a single Hollywood star has ever been here. The simple fact is that since 1968, Terlingua has hosted the World Championship Chili Competition and Americans from all over have a passionate love of chili.

As one needs an introduction to Terlingua, there are a few facts that must also be established about chili. Chili, especially the dish known as chili con carne is not, as many people assume, a Mexican invention. First prepared in the 1830s, probably in Texas, this highly seasoned, aromatic dish was probably originally designed to hide the smell of decaying meat. Regardless of the reasons for which it was first made, by the late 19th century chili con carne had become one of the most popular dishes in America. It is also a dish that carries with it a great deal of mythology, confusion and out-and-out lies. Many Texans swear that the dish was invented by Sam Houston, the first president of the Republic of Texas; the residents of the state of New Mexico are convinced that the dish was invented by a cook named, as unlikely as it may seem, Jethro Tull, in 1836 in the city of Albequerque and the citizens of Oklahoma know with an unswerving certainty that the dish originated in the restaurant known as "Jeffrey's Diner"in Oklahoma City. To complicate matters even further, the Seminole Indians claim that they invented the dish as early as 1650.

Although the truth about who invented chili con carne will never be fully known, there are certain givens in making this dish. Chili con carne, by universal agreement, must contain meat, oil, hot chili peppers, tomatoes, garlic, salt, onion, oregano and cumin. The finished dish must be deep red in color, and should be hot enough to bring beads of perspiration to the cheeks. At this point, however, all agreement ceases. Some feel strongly that the only true chili is made with beef and others claim that pork and even lamb can be used. In Texas the meat is cut into small cubes, sometimes as large as 2 cm. in size; in Oklahoma and New Mexico, only ground beef is considered acceptable; and in Northern states like Massachusetts the meat is supposed to be shredded. Californians often add sweet Italian sausages to their chili; Creek Indians Say that dog meat is ideal for making the dish; and some Texans feel that any chili can be made tastier by the addition of rattlesnake meat.

Even on the question of vegetables, herbs and spices there is little agreement. Some use only fresh tomatoes, some use a combination of tinned tomatoes and tomato puree; some say that sweet green peppers should be added, and others say that they are anathema to good chili. The chili peppers used can be of any of thirteen different varieties. Jalapeno peppers are the most popular but close runners-up are the peppers known as serrano, poblano and catarina). As to what herbs and spices are allowable, let it only be noted that in addition to the basic ingredients, some chefs add celery, black pepper, lemon juice, parsley and Dijon mustard to their chili. One respected cook actually commits the double sin of adding red burgundy wine and black olives but she has been forgiven because her chili is so good. Far more controversial are those who claim that chili can be made with such ingredients as rice, vinegar, grated cheddar cheese, spring onions, grapefruit, corn or the Mexican cornflour known as massa harina .

Despite their enthusiasm for one form of meat or one kind of pepper or another, chili fans are never become as excited as when they discuss question of whether or not chili con carne should contain beans . This is a 150 year old argument, one that is known to have led to a riot in an Oklahoma prison, a duel in Louisiana, and a series of bar-room brawls in Texas. In 1979, a couple in the city of Little Rock, Arkansas divorced on the grounds of incompatibility, the wife claiming that she could not tolerate the fact that her husband used beans in his chili. The truth, despite the emotions that this disagreement involve, is that there is no fixed rule about the use of beans. Even Frank Tolbert, whose book about chili, "A Bowl of Red", is considered the definitive work on the subject, admits that he has "no fixed opinion about beans, one way or the other".

Chili is such a popular dish that every year, starting in late summer, regional chili contests are held all over the United States. Not to feel left out, American soldiers and diplomats stationed around the world have their own contests. From the United States Air Force base on Guam to the American embassy in Tel Aviv, Americans all over the world rightly or wrongly flatter themselves that they know how to cook good chili. The winners of many of these regional contests will then bring their pots and pans to Terlingua to compete for the world title.

These people come to Terlingua by bus, in private cars, in hired limousines, on horses, on donkeys, on motorcycles or in campers. Once there, because there are only two small motels in town, most of them make their temporary homes in camping tents, and outside their tents they set up their makeshift kitchens. There is nothing subtle, sophisticated or gentle about what happens once these cooks get to Terlingua, for in addition to the pleasures of cooking and eating chili, most of the people have also come for the purpose of drinking a virtual river of tequila and ogling the large-breasted women who will take part in the Wet T-Shirt Contest. English travel writer Stephen Brook wrote that "chili and the competition at Terlingua exist as a form of aggression, a Texan denial of refinement and finesse"

On the night before the actual competition, the traditional meal is of huge fried steaks and baked potatoes. The de rigueur drink at this meal is beer and anyone foolish enough to open a bottle of wine will be looked upon with great scorn. After the meal, the beer cans vanish and nearly everyone starts drinking tequila, which, according to Texas etiquette, can only be drunk straight from the bottle. Women are encouraged to show off the size of their breasts; the men tell outrageous lies about how many women they have slept with in the last year; and nearly everyone brags about how theirs is the best chili con carne in the world. The local police are kept busy breaking up fights, most of which are little more than "friendly disagreements" and the prostitutes who have come from El Paso are kept busy throughout the night.

The serious business of cooking chili starts on Saturday morning, when the contestants spend anywhere from 4 - 8 hours cooking, stirring and seasoning their chili. Most do their cooking on make-shift stoves heated by camping gas, but some, generally from New York State or California, bring sophisticated cooking equipment with them. The fact that they all do their cooking in extremely large pots reflects the belief that it is impossible to prepare good chili con carne in small amounts.

The idea of the contest was born twenty five years ago when a Connecticut journalist claimed that he could cook better chili con carne than any Texan. That was a challenge that no Texan could refuse to answer, because that year the senate of Texas had passed a law declaring chili to be the official state dish. The first year there were only three contestants, the journalist from Connecticut (whose name has been lost to history) and two Texans. No prize was awarded because the judges declared that their mouths had been too badly burned by the chili for them to be able to decide. Nor was a prize awarded during the following year, because the box containing the judge's votes had been stolen by a group of masked motorcycle riders. Since then, however, a prize has been awarded every year. The contest is so informal that no one knows how the judges are selected. Despite this, judging the quality of chili con carne is an art form, no less complex and no less full of ritual than tasting fine red wines.

By one or two in the afternoon, large cauldrons of dark, meat lava are on the fire, some of which are fierce enough in their hotness to collapse the roof of an unsuspecting mouth. Aficionados know that chili should be hot, but no one agrees on precisely how hot it should be. In the competition I witnessed quite a few years ago, one the judges told me that "quality is what counts, not heat". He paused, smiled and added that "any ordinary idiot can throw more hot peppers into a pot but it takes a special kind of idiot to make his chili taste good".

In addition to the judges and contestants, several thousand people come to watch the competition. Most of them walk around from one pot to another, always with a small plastic bowl and a spoon in their hand so that they can receive small portions of chili to taste, and giving encouragement to the cooks. Among the visitors will always be a few Frenchmen, who are generally confused because they always thought chili con carne was something like bouillabaisse and several Englishmen, who are invariably in a state of hysteria, thinking that their palates have been destroyed forever by the heat of the chili they have tasted. A few Japanese have showed up at recent competitions, and they have earned the enviable reputation of being able to drink as much tequila as they like without becoming the least bit drunk. Other regular visitors include members of the Hell's Angels and the convicts from the nearby state prison who are released for the day so that they can "have a little fun".

At two in the afternoon, each competitor takes six bowls of chili to the stage where the judges will choose the winner on the basis of color, aroma, consistency, taste and aftertaste. During the first ten years of the contest, every bowl was labeled with the name and home-state of the contestant. That this was not entirely fair was seen by the fact that no non-Texan ever won one of those contests. The tasting is now done "blind", that is to say that the judges have no way of knowing whose chili they are sampling. Since that time, only about half of the winners have been Texans. By five in the afternoon, the winner has been announced, the prize, which varies in size from ten to twenty-five thousand dollars, has been awarded, and all of the chili and tequila have been consumed. By eight in the evening, the visitors and judges have left, the contestants have folded up their tents, packed up their kitchens and are on the way back to wherever they came from, and the two motels are empty once again. The few people who were arrested for fighting have been released from the local jail, the three-man garbage department has cleaned up all the mess, and Terlingua returns to oblivion for another year.

Over the years, I have collected about 85 recipes for chili con carne. The recipes that follow are the ones I most enjoy. Each of the recipes calls for the use of Chili. I especially recommend the product of the American company McCormick,

Craig Clairborne's Chili Con Carne

3 Tablespoons butter or olive oil
1 large onion, chopped finely
2 cloves garlic
1 kilo ground beef
3 cups beef stock or water
1 1/2 cups tinned Italian tomatoes, drained
1 green pepper, minced
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon cumin seeds, crushed
1 small bay leaf
2 Tablespoons chili powder
1/8 teaspoon dried basil
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 cups of cooked red kidney beans, (optional)

In a large heavy skillet heat the butter and in this saute the onion and garlic until golden brown. Add the meat and brown well. Transfer these ingredients to a large pot, add all of the remaining ingredients except the beans and bring to a boil. As soon as the mixture boils reduce the flame and simmer gently, uncovered, until the sauce is as thick as desired (about 3 hours). Shortly before serving, add the kidney beans and heat through. (Serves 4).

Note: Similar and equally good recipes are provided by Jean Hewitt, Barbara Hansen and Cleto Hernandez. Hewitt suggests adding 1/2 kilo of ground pork; Hansen uses dried chili peppers instead of chili powder; and Hernandez, who is Texan, says that the meat should be cut in small cubes instead of ground.

Herme Nelson's Chili

1/2 kilo suet, cut in pieces (if not available, cubes use a mixture of 2/3 butter and 1/3 olive oil)
2 kilos lean beef, cut in 1 cm. cubes
flour as needed
salt and pepper to taste
10 cloves garlic, chopped finely
6 onions, chopped coarsely
3 - 5 hot Jalapeno chilies, chopped (if not available use other hot peppers)
60 gr. chili powder
3 Tablespoons paprika (hot or sweet, to taste)
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 1/4 cups tomato puree 1 cup water

Cook the suet in a large, heavy skillet until the fat melts. Discard the dried pieces of suet and leave only the fat in the skillet.

Mix about 1 cup of flower with salt and pepper. In this dip the meat pieces, soaking nicely, and then brown the meat in the fat, stirring frequently. Add the garlic and onions and saute until the onions are translucent. Transfer these ingredients to a large kettle, add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce the flame and simmer, covered, until the meat is tender (about 3 hours). Add the beans several minutes before ready to serve. (Serves 8 - 12).

© Daniel Rogov