Spicy Hot Stuff

Lake Chelan Mirror
Its star-studded history is shrouded in tongue-sizzling mystery. Even chili experts can’t agree who gets credit for created the all-American food. Was it Texan outlaws, prison cooks, or a 17th century Spanish nun who experienced mystical trances?

Regardless of its origins, the spicy blend of beans and meat may spark twitters of amour. Nineteenth century priests warned against the passion inspired by a chili pepper, and the aroma of good chili should generate rapture akin to a lover’s kiss, according to the Chili Appreciation Society International’s motto.

Chili lovers call themselves chili-heads. Each year, thousand participate in chili cook-offs each year, and competitors guard secret ingredients with vigilance. In the Lake Chelan Valley, chili aficionados joined their ranks ten years ago, when an annual chili cook-off was added to January’s Fire and Ice Festivities. Competition is fierce, with previous winner Dave Graybill proclaiming himself the “Czar of Chili in Chelan.”

Caroline Dickes is determined to knock Graybill off the throne. A day before the cook-off, she whipped up her secret concoction in a quirky kitchen with mint green cupboards that met the ceiling in catty-cornered angles. Sun blazed through the window and sparkled against handmade wind chimes constructed from glass beads and silverware. A chili-red candle burned in the window sill.

Onions browned on the stove as Caroline chopped green pepper and garlic under the light of a paper star lap. She glanced at her top-secret recipe, typed on a stained piece of lined notebook paper and stuffed in a three-ring binder.

A prize-winning recipe from her sister is Carolines’s starting point, but she elaborates on it. “There’s a million chili recipes out there,” she said. “Find one you like, throw in your personal taste and flares, and you’re going to have a great chili. Anybody who can make scrambled eggs can make chili.”

The key to good chili, she explained, is the perfect balance of spice to meet to vegetables. She encourages chili-cooking wannabes to use the freshest vegetables, including home grown and canned tomatoes. She pulled out a jar of cherry tomatoes she grew in her backyard garden last summer, basil leaves tucked in with the plump read and gold fruit. This year’s secret weapon.

And take your time, she added. Caroline dedicates at least 24 hours to her once-a-year chili-cooking marathon, giving her chili plenty of simmer time.

The following day, four judges ambled to the chili cook-off testing area at Don Morse Park. Sixteen thermoses and bowls of chili lined both sides of two picnic tables. Each judge carried a bottle of water to quench the chili flames, and a package of saltine crackers sat in the middle of the table. Those are to cleanse the palate between samples, explained judge Clint Strand.

Taking their places around the tables, the judges sampled with gusto, spooning chili into bowls and joking about Tums. Taking tastes and smacking lips, they critiqued each entry for eye appeal, aroma, taste, texture, spiciness, and originality.

Forty five minutes later, the judges were slowing down, chili chugging turned to chili sipping. “I feel like a Rolaids commercial,” groaned judge Clint Strand. “They’re all spicy, and they’re all dangerous.

Judges tallied results. Contestants gathered. Fifth place, fourth, third, second place… “And the Grand Poohbah of Chili,” proclaimed Strand with mock reverence, “is Caroline Dickes.” Whooping in victory, a baby riding on her back, Caroline ran through the crowd to be crowned this year’s Chelan Chili Queen with a satin sash and a white chef’s hat.

A full version of this story was published in Lake Chelan Mirror