We Texans exuberantly claim that the Lone Star State is the birthplace of chili — and for good reason. According to the late Texas journalist and chili enthusiast Frank X. Tolbert, real chili is a haunting, mystical thing. Chili, or chili con carne, is not so much a food as it is a state of mind. Addictions to it are formed early, and the victims never recover.
But where does the authentic Texas-style bowl of red come from? Legend has it that chili was invented in the late 1840s when Texas cowboys pounded dried beef, beef fat, dried chilis and salt into a paste to rehydrate into a nutritious stew while out on the dusty range. Evidence suggests chili as we know it today had its beginnings in San Antonio in the 1880s and was served in poor households, in small cafes and from sidewalk vendors.
San Antonio’s famous “chili queens” emerged around this same time. These flamboyantly dressed women would appear around dusk in the city’s plazas with carts carrying makeshift tables, colorful lamps and pots filled with chili. They also hauled charcoal or mesquite to fuel fires that kept the chili warm while perfuming the air with a pepper bouquet — a heady selling point.
Chili queens reined over San Antonio evenings until the early 1940s when city health regulators forced them to conform to the same sanitary guidelines imposed on restaurants. That was too much to ask. The chili queens were eventually driven from the city’s plazas and into Texas history.
So, what’s the basic Texas chili recipe? Defining authentic Texas chili is difficult. But the core recipe is cubed or ground chuck simmered with sun-dried ancho chilis. Other iterations include a variety of peppers along with garlic, onions, cumin, chili powder and oregano — even a cup of coffee and cocoa powder. Tomatoes are sometimes added, but this is considered blasphemy by many Texan chili aficionados.
With the coming of fall and winter winds, we decided to survey the offerings of Collin County kitchens. Most do not conform to the Texas bowl-of-red orthodoxy, but that’s what reformations are for.
Guitars & Growlers McKinney
2741 Virginia Parkway, Suite 500, McKinney | 469.714.0229
Guitars and beer. That’s the frothy vibe at Guitars and Growlers (not the hound kind, but the craft draft beer transport bottle kind) with additional locations in Richardson and Flower Mound. The walls are garnished with handcrafted custom guitars with price tags that would eviscerate your annual beer allowance. G&G has 34 craft beers on rotation (plus Rockin’ Beer Flights), a stage with a drum kit and a Tuesday open mic night. The menu contains things like “power chord paninis” and “pedal board charcuterie spreads.” So, get your croonin’ and pickin’ chops tuned up and dig in. We dug into the cowboy beer chili, a medium-bodied ground beef slurry flecked with a few black beans (Texas bowl-of-red heresy) and topped with a lattice of cheddar cheese shreds. It’s accompanied by fire crackers, saltines customized with oil, ranch seasoning and red pepper flakes, which add a few sparks to the spice layer of this stew when you dip ’em in. Sure to yield a smooth-pickin’ grin.
Haywire
5901 Winthrop St., Suite 110, Plano | 972.781.9473
With locations in Plano and Dallas, Haywire boasts it’s always looking to elevate and innovate its farm-to-fork menu (with tastes that are both unexpected and comforting) crafted from Texas-sourced ingredients. Haywire is rough-hewn sophistication, or upscale cowpuncher, as they say in the trade. It has elegant but simple seating, a handsome used-brick back bar and horned wild game trophies on the walls. There’s even rooftop dining in 15-foot tents for those who want to feel like they’re roughing it while twirling their forks in white cheddar havarti mac and cheese. Haywire’s venison chili keeps tabs on this sophistication. It teems with layers of complexity, unleashing hints of sweetness, spice and soothing meat richness under a crown of melted white cheddar flecked with scallions and bits of red onion. It’s equipped with a buttered cornbread muffin for indulgent dipping.
The Holy Grail Pub
8240 Preston Road, Suite 150, Plano | 972.377.6633
The Holy Grail Pub is old-world European cozy, with lots of dark wood interior touches, rough-hewn ceiling beams, faux-candle lighting elements, communal tables, and Guinness and Chamay signage. Think of it as a centuries-old tavern oasis in a strip mall-laden North Texas commuter-shed utopia. Amid the menu of scratch European favorites and modern American fare lies a bit of danger: a searing bowl of red. It’s so fraught with intensity that they suggest you sample it before diving into a full bowl. Not that it’s crafted from Carolina reapers, dragon’s breath or other capsicums engineered for palate destruction. No, The Holy Grail Pub opts for standard munition: the ghost pepper. Still, this bowl is savage. They try to minimize its ferocity by cluttering the bowl with Fritos, cheddar cheese shreds and a dollop of sour cream. No matter. Waterworks will flood your face with every spoonful. It’s a bright red with a tangy layer and hints of sweetness swaddling its debris field of ground turkey. This Holy Grail Pub ghost pepper recipe transforms craft beer into first aid.
Kenny’s Burger Joint
1377 Legacy Drive, Suite 120, Frisco | 214.618.8001
From the mind of celebrated chef Kenny Bowers comes Kenny’s Burger Joint, a destination fraught with the exploitation of carnivore cravings. That’s why the handmade half-pound burgers are cooked over hickory on an all-natural, wood-burning grill and plopped on freshly baked buns. That same care is applied to the Burger Joint’s chili. It’s dark, simple, rumpled-up with top-notch premium ground beef and bursting with flavor. You can even add it to the Big Dog, which is served stark naked until you drape it in ketchup, mustard, relish and … chili.
Rodeo Goat
3111 Preston Road, Frisco | 469.962.4628
We’re not sure of the origin story of this place, but it has something to do with truancy, banana rope, a throng of teenagers, and a herd of goats that were bottle-fed Falstaff beer (named after Shakespearean character Sir John Falstaff in 1903) in a Fort Worth rodeo ring. Sounds like a fantastic recipe for great burgers (their specialty) like the Hot Bastard, with habanero cheddar and Fresno peppers, and a vegan burger dubbed Neil Young. Which is strange because Neil Young doesn’t appear on the list of “10 Rock Stars You Probably Didn’t Know Were Vegetarian.” Anyway, it turns out goats are a great inspiration for chili, too: not a Neil Young sacrilege utilizing ground goat meat but the rousing rodeo goat drama fueled by Falstaff beer. This creamy bit of Texas authenticity incorporates ground brisket, which imparts smokiness to the layer of pepper heat that nips you out from under the spoon. We could have sworn there was some bacon in there, too, but this could be Sir Falstaff speaking.
Spoons Cafe/The Garage
100 E. Louisiana St., McKinney | 972.548.6900
Spoons Cafe is an old-fashioned small-town cafe in the old-fashioned downtown McKinney Square. Spoons takes shape in digs that originally housed the Texas Power and Light Company, and it’s filled with electric charm. It serves breakfast all day along with classic comfort foods like meatloaf and … chili. Spoons’ chili is a rich and tasty flourish served in a red bowl on a red plate with a shuffle of Ritz crackers and plastic ramekins filled with diced white onion and shreds of cheese. It’s a classic taste that hits the spot with unpretentious simplicity. Directly behind Spoons is The Garage, a craft cocktail haunt that serves Spoons’ full menu as well as a selection of bar bites. The Garage was once the actual garage for the power company, which means it's still fulfilling its role as the go-to spot for tune-ups.
The Stix Icehouse
301 W. Eldorado Parkway, McKinney | 214.592.8335
Stix is allegedly inspired by the top-notch watering holes in College Station and Austin. And it brings the “sticks” to life with 14 acres, equipped with a pet-friendly porch, whiffle ball, cornhole, tire swings, a tree house, disk golf and pingpong — the kind of indulgences you wallow in when your hole is properly watered. Stix has more than two dozen ice-cold beers on tap, which helps take the edge off the chili. It’s a delicious culinary slurry parked in a crock (with a side of oyster crackers), flecked with fragments of raw scallion and topped with cheddar cheese shreds and a thick bead of seasoned sour cream that weaves and wanders across the chili landscape — and helps the heat go down easy.
Ye Ole Butcher Shop
811 E. 15th St., Plano | 972.423.1848
You’d expect a butcher shop to deliver a mighty bowl of Texas chili, and Ye Ole Butcher Shop doesn’t disappoint. Though this place boasts helpings of elk, buck, buffalo and wild hog (not to be mistaken for a Harley without a muffler), Ye Ole’s chili is little more than rolling ripples of ground beef with a little gravy dribbled in for color. This means every bowl is a bounty of rich and hearty red that bonds to your ribs with a superglue grip. Its bold flavor unfolds with a vigor that peels your face into a smirk of satisfaction. But Ye Ole doesn’t only ladle beef. There’s also a refrigerated case with elk, deer and bison chili. We love a place that gives you a choice of hoofs for your bowl of red.