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I can’t make any claims to the authenticity of this recipe – I’ve been to Texas once, and that was a layover at the Houston airport – but according to my research, a proper Texas chili is meat and chili peppers, spices and maybe a little bit of tomato sauce. There are no beans, and using fresh ingredients such as real onions and garlic is frowned upon (most recipes I’ve seen advocate the use of onion powder and garlic powder).
Actually, the only time I’ve ever had a Texas chili was at Garlic and Shots, a bar in Soho that was established by two brothers from Sweden. Again, no guarantees of authenticity there. I don’t know if the Olsson brothers have ever been anywhere near Texas, but they make a damn good chili – wonderful spicy shredded beef, with very little sauce to speak of.
My research indicates that you can use many different textures of meat – some recipes call for cubed, some for the usual minced or ground beef. The BBQ Pit Boys on YouTube use their shredded beef brisket and mince which looks incredible, but a tiny flat in east London isn’t the place to try out smoking beef, so I’ve had to improvise. Also, a chili is meant to use up leftover meat, so I’ve done this with stewing pork as well as beef and I think I actually prefer it with the pork. It’s even cheaper to make too.
God, I love Buffalo wings. Since moving to London over a decade ago, I’ve rarely touched anything deep-fried, but the moment the jet’s landing gear opens over Philly International, I’m drooling at the thought of Philly cheese steaks, nachos and Buffalo wings. Don’t get me wrong, Britain has much to offer on the subject of tasty ways to clog your arteries, but to paraphrase Bill Bryson, we Americans like our food to practically squirt when we bite into it, and fish n’ chips just doesn’t quite cut it.
When I first moved here, I heard lots of lame jokes on the subject of my beloved chicken cast-offs (“I didn’t know buffaloes could fly, hur hur” is only second to even lamer jokes about my state of origin: “Pennsylvania? Are you a vampire? Isn’t that where pencils come from?” etc). They are, of course, named for their city of origin, Buffalo, NY, concocted by a restauranteur sometime in the mid-1960s to satisfy the salty-spicy-meaty cravings of a crowd of late-night drinkers. I could happily eat them for breakfast.
I rarely see this done in the UK but it’s one of those midweek American looks-weird-tastes-great dinner staples. I’ve seen cheffy types doing “updated” versions with lots of posho ingredients but that totally misses the point of meatloaf (though I admit Emeril’s version does look really good). The trendy American-style diner chain The Diner has it on the menu, but the portions are kind of small and it’s actually a bit expensive (unfortunately the case with most of their dishes, very tasty, but pricey and on the small side).
Anyway, meatloaf is supposed to be cheap, plentiful and easy enough for a mom to throw together while keeping her three children from pummeling the crap out of each other. And it’s never going to look pretty even if it’s presented small and tall on a trellis of chives and julienned spring onions.
