Chili Challenge: TexAZ Grill vs. Matt's Big Breakfast
When the temperatures turn arctic, there's only one way to do the math: chilly = chili. And because cold snaps are few and far between here in the land of eternal sunshine, this is chili-eating weather as we seldom see it.
Nikki Buchanan TexAZ Grill (left) vs. Matt's Big Breakfast (right)
Nobody really knows the origins of chili, but Texans love to say they invented it, and there's evidence to support that claim. Back in the late 1800s, San Antonio -- a town built on cattle, the railroad and the military -- was known for its "chili queens," Latinas who made spicy dishes of meat and chile at home, then sold them from wagons to soldiers on the plaza.
Ultimately, it's probably safest to say that chili is an all-American dish, as varied as the cooks who make it, although it often reflects regional styles and preferences. Just to stir the proverbial pot a bit, we're pitting Texaz Grill's justifiably famous bowl o' red against the Midwest-style chili at Matt's Big Breakfast. Who makes a better bowl?
In this corner: Texaz Grill
Buchanan Texaz Red at Texaz Grill
The setup: Native Texan Steve Freidkin opened Texaz Grill (originally called Lone Star Steaks) back in 1985, bringing a kitschy, cluttered slice of good ol' boy Texas to 16th Street and Bethany Home. Twenty-eight years later, this dimly lit diner and neighborhood bar -- heavily decorated with license plates, smart-ass bumper stickers and billed caps (the official head gear of rednecks everywhere) -- is still cranking out legendary chicken fried steaks, smoked prime rib, fried catfish, and of course, Texaz Red -- Freidkin's version of Texas-style chili. When it comes to appreciating a good bowl o' red, this dude ought to know. He's been a judge at the annual chili cook-off in Terlingua, Texas for the past 24 years.
The Good: Heaped with shredded cheddar and sliced white onion and served with packaged Saltines, this is exactly what chili ought to look like. Because this is Texas chili, there are no beans in the bowl -- just brisket, ground in-house and cooked with toasted whole cumin seeds, oregano, chile flakes, chili powder and cayenne, (the spices soaked for a while in Texas beer), then simmered with onions, garlic and tomato sauce. When it's all done, the meat is ultra-tender, the onions translucent, the overall texture thick and rich, a bit like a Bolognese, only spicier. This is hearty, delicious stuff.
The Bad: Nothing at all wrong with this chili. I don't even miss the beans and I thought I might. The heat level could be kicked up a notch (I expected as much, given Texas chili's reputation). John Thorne, who wrote Simple Cooking once said this: "It can only truly be Texas red if it walks the thin line just this side of indigestibility: Damning the mouth that eats it and defying the stomach to digest it, the ingredients are hardly willing to lie in the same pot together." This is not Thorne's chili, not some hellfire and brimstone situation that just flat out punishes. It's an approachable, easy-to-love version that goes down easy -- with no heartburn later. But chile-heads might long for more chile heat.
The Price: Cup, $3.50; bowl, $4.50; salad and a bowl, $7; Frito Pie, $5.