Vanna White uses drained pinto beans.
Brett Favre adds kidney beans and beer.
George W. Bush likely doesn't do beans at all — because as any Texan will tell you, "If you know beans about chili, you know that chili has no beans."
Chili might be the quintessential American food. Flavorful and filling, good when served fresh and better when reheated, chili can be as simple or complex as you want to make it.
Although there are countless variations to the basic recipe, most chilis are best described as a thick soup mixing meat, tomatoes and chile powder. The flavorful chile pepper differentiates meat chili from most barbeque recipes. In Midwest states such as Wisconsin, chili has become a hearty way to fend off the winter chill. It is so popular that many families pass their recipes from generation to generation, though experimentation and improvisation have been part of successful chili making since its earliest days.
Most food historians agree chili took root first in Texas, but they disagree who should get the credit. Some say the Texas trail cooks of the mid-1800s developed the early versions of modern-day chili on long cattle drives. The cooks discovered they could make nonperishable food by pounding together dried beef, fat, chile peppers and salt. These "chili bricks" could be soaked in water during the day, and by dinnertime they could be boiled in water with garlic and cumin to make a nourishing meal. (A chili brick today, however, would have a much less savory connotation.)
Others say chili was invented around 1880 in San Antonio by women primarily of Mexican descent. These "chili queens" sold stew made with dried chiles and beef from open-air stalls and colorful wagons. (Again, we advise against calling anyone a chili queen today. It just might not be taken the way you intended.)
While the origins are debated, there is no doubt that chili had become a significant part of the culinary landscape in the West, Midwest and South by the early 1900s as each region developed its own unique style. Historians noted that by the depression years, "chili joints" offering cheap chili and free crackers meant the difference between starving and staying alive for many. It has been said that chili saved more people from starvation than the Red Cross.
Today, chili remains a popular menu choice in homes and restaurants. Many communities, including La Crosse and Onalaska, have annual chili cook-offs. that have raised thousands of dollars for various charities. Two major organizations — the International Chili Society and the Chili Appreciation Society International — coordinate cookoffs, compile recipes and continue to spread the gospel of chili throughout the world.
In La Crosse, you can find chili on the menus of many restaurants and bars. Some include the ICS "forbidden fruits" of beans and pasta; all share the zesty flavor that makes chili the perfect choice for a winter meal.
Everyone's chili tastes and preferences vary so we would not be so bold as to choose the best chili in La Crosse, but here is a sampling of some of our favorite chilis that are sure to warm the cockles of your heart, as well as your fingers and toes:
Olde Style Inn
828 5th Avenue S.
While in some circles chili has attained a status dangerously near gourmet, the bowlfuls at Olde Style Inn come refreshingly low-brow. This is the kind of chili you make to watch a football game. It’s the sort you refrigerate and peaks on the third day. In other words, the chili at Olde Style Inn tastes like what chili is meant to be. The base is beef, long-simmering flavorful, fatty beef. Then there’s a bunch of tomato paste, a few stewed tomatoes, probably a dozen kidney beans and a spice blend that’s integral to any chili maestro, but it’s mild enough for La Crosse’s tongue. The real flavors come sprinkled on top. I ordered mine with the works, which consisted of cheddar cheese, chopped onions, jalapeños and sour cream. My breath probably reeked, but damn if that wasn’t a fine bowl of chili. It’s a reasonable $3.50 and comes with saltine crackers. I recommend pairing it with Leinenkugel's Honey Weiss.
— Adam Bissen
Fayze's
135 4th St. S.
It was served smothered in onions. The cheese was melting faster than a young girl's heart at a Jonas Brothers show. That familiar perfume — Eau de Beef — seduced me yet again, enticing me to devour it quickly, ravenously. But I knew better. To truly appreciate chili, one must savor it slowly, not rush headlong into it like a schoolyard romance. Yes, I have a longstanding love affair with chili. But I'm no Tiger Woods — or even John Edwards: I readily admit I've played around, tasted others' offerings now and then, and, yes, licked my fair share of bowls. But since discovering Fayze's, I've always come back for more. Underneath the warm covers of onions and cheese, you find a heaping serving of ground beef mixed with beans and stirred into a bubbling batch of tomato sauce, chili seasoning and peppers. Bits of celery add an occasional surprising crunch as you munch. There is a time and place for a quickie, I admit, but as you mature, you learn to appreciate a nice long chili lunch, one with time to let the anticipation build and for the ingredients to release their flavorful juices. Given that respect, Fayze's chili leaves you more than satisfied. Lunch prices are $2.59 for a cup and $3.59 for a crock.
— Roger Bartel
Jules Coffee House
327 Pearl St.
While chili in these parts tends to be a meaty experience, Jules coffee shop offers a recipe for us vegetarians who want a bowl as well. While I couldn't tell you about any of the other fine selections listed herein, I have found myself scraping the bottom of a bowl for the last drops at Jules more times than I can count, and I give it a hearty thumbs up. Using mostly if not all organic ingredients, their always-on-the-menu chili is made up of kidney beans, canned tomatoes, green peppers, carrots, onions, garlic, cayenne powder, pepper and salt. The chili comes with a made-from-scratch hard roll, and the filling portions give you a bang for your buck. Highly recommended, whether during your lunch break, needing a little brain food while hammering away at school work, or simply enjoying the downtown cafe vibe on a lazy day.
— Shuggypop Jackson
Maid-Rite
1119 Caledonia St.
If you're looking for traditional La Crosse chili, you can't find a more traditional spot than Maid-Rite. The tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant has been turning out classic diner food for the locals for generations. A cup of the house chili reveals the standards: plenty of ground beef mixed with chili beans, stewed tomatoes, tomato juice, onions and a lusty dose of cayenne pepper. The key to chili, of course, is the seasoning. In addition to chili powder, this batch is sprinkled with garlic powder, cumin, paprika, salt and pepper. Shelly Davis stirs the Maid-Rite pot and has honed the recipe to the point that it satisfies most taste buds: not too hot, not too mild. "It's a little bit more than mild, a little bit hot, but not take-your-breath-away hot," she says. We concur. And, of course, you can get all the toppings, too, though don't overdo it or you'll loose that classic chili taste. You can get a cup for $1.75 or a bowl for $3. The friendly, neighborhood feel and conversation come free.
— Roger Bartel
Hungry Peddler
3429 Mormon Coulee Road
The moment you walk into Hungry Peddler, you realize your meal is going to be a throwback. The place looks like your grandfather’s den, with dark wood paneling, low-slung chairs and a collection of Victorian-era paintings of dapper mustachioed men. The Hungry Peddler is as much a retreat as a restaurant, so naturally this den of comfort serves chili every day. And with two sides served with most every meal, there’s no excuse not to get a cup. The chili comes with all the usual fixins — onions, peppers, kidney beans and tomatoes — and the ground beef is well-simmered and beautifully seasoned. It comes from an era when cooks weren’t afraid to use salt. My only advice — and this pains me as a true-blue Wisconsinite — is to order it without cheese. Rather than shredded cheddar, the Peddler places a square of yellow cheese over the entire cup, making for a gelatinous mess that overpowers the rest of the flavors. Grandpa knew better, and so should you.
— Adam Bissen
King Street Kitchen
141 7th St. S.
The chili at King Street Kitchen, 141 7th St., is homemade, and I didn't need the notation on the back of the menu to know that. Spooning through my first of many cups there this winter, I saw the usual starting lineup: chunks of beef, tomatoes, slices of celery, onions. The chili was thicker than most, a little less tomato juice, perhaps, and sweeter — though I've never determined why. And that's how I know the chili is homemade; each time I've sampled the chili, it tastes slightly different. I like that. I also like that prices are reasonable at King Street. It's $1.99 for a cup of the house chili, $2.99 for a bowl. If you want to satisfy a heftier appetite, I recommend a crock, which will cost you $4.95 but includes the onions, sour cream, cheese and, here ya' go, garlic toast!
— Roger Bartel
Pickerman's
327 Jay St.
Purists may deride the name of Pickerman’s Texas Chili as some kind of cruel joke, but its taste is nothing to laugh at. In fact, of all the chilis I’ve sampled in La Crosse restaurants, this one is probably my favorite. The strength of the Pickerman’s product comes from its beans — which a Texas cook would normally revile as an ingredient non grata. But not only does this chili come with the customary kidney beans, it adds southwestern black beans for good measure. There are also onions and pieces of tomato, but while many chilis are served soupy and red as fire trucks, this one is brown and appealingly thick. It has chunks of beef — no hamburger here — and a wonderful spiciness that’s warming but not hot. Top it off, this chili ($1.99 cup, $4.29 bowl) is also 500 Club certified, making it healthy as well as delicious. Stick that on your spoon and lick it, Texas!
— Adam Bissen |
