Chili with Cocoa Powder

I've been thinking about dating. Not obsessively, not urgently, but with the quiet awareness of a twenty-five-year-old woman who has spent three years building an identity and is now wondering if there's room in the identity for another person. I haven't dated since college — a brief thing, half-hearted, with a guy from my CS program who was nice and uncomplicated and didn't understand why I got quiet sometimes. The quietness was the adoption thing, the identity thing, the things I hadn't started processing yet. Now I've processed (am processing — it's always present tense with therapy). Now I know who I am. Now I might be ready to let someone else know who I am too.

Dr. Yoon and I explored this. She asked, "What would you want in a partner?" I said, without thinking: "Someone who understands the Asian-American thing. The between-two-cultures thing. Someone I don't have to explain gochugaru to." She said, "You want someone who speaks your language. Not Korean necessarily — your language. The language of being between." Yes. The language of being between. The language of kimchi and pot roast on the same table. The language of both.

The Korean women's group had dinner this week at a Korean BBQ restaurant in Federal Way. Over grilled meat and soju, the conversation turned to relationships (it always does, eventually). Jihye, who's married to a Korean man, said, "Korean men are stubborn and traditional." Sujin, whose partner Tom is white, said, "White men are clueless but they try." I said, "I just want someone who eats kimchi without flinching." Everyone laughed. But I was only half joking. The flinching is a litmus test. If you flinch at kimchi, you flinch at me. If you eat it — really eat it, with pleasure, with curiosity, with the willingness to let the fermented, pungent, aggressive flavors enter your body — then maybe you can eat me too. (The metaphor works. Trust me.)

Cooking this week: I made gochujang-jeyuk-bokkeum — spicy gochujang pork stir-fry, a bold, assertive dish of thinly sliced pork marinated in gochujang, soy sauce, garlic, and ginger, stir-fried until caramelized and sticky. It's the kind of dish I make when I want to feel powerful — the flavors are unapologetic, the heat is significant, the sweetness is earned through caramelization rather than added sugar. The jeyuk-bokkeum is my energy food. My power food. The dish I eat when I need to feel like the boldest version of myself.

Saturday: Bellevue. Karen made her chicken and dumplings — the American comfort classic, the dough pillowy, the broth creamy. I brought the jeyuk-bokkeum. The contrast was dramatic: Karen's gentle, pillowy comfort beside my fiery, caramelized power dish. David tried the jeyuk-bokkeum and said, "This has a kick." It does. The kick is intentional. The kick is me.

I don’t always have gochujang in someone else’s kitchen — but I can almost always find heat, depth, and the willingness to go somewhere unexpected. This chili with cocoa powder is the Western dish I reach for when the jeyuk-bokkeum isn’t an option but the energy still is: something bold that doesn’t apologize, something with layers you have to lean into, something that earns its richness rather than announces it. Like the jeyuk-bokkeum I brought to Karen’s table, this is a dish that has a kick — and the kick is intentional.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs ground beef (85% lean)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1 cup beef broth
2 tbsp chili powder
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (adjust to heat preference)
2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tbsp olive oil
Optional toppings: sour cream, shredded cheddar, sliced scallions, pickled jalapeños

Instructions

Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add the ground beef and cook, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until browned and no longer pink, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pot.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion and bell pepper to the pot and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly so it doesn’t burn.
Bloom the spices. Add the chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, cayenne, salt, and black pepper directly to the pot. Stir to coat the meat and vegetables. Cook for 1–2 minutes — this step deepens and toasts the spices. Then add the cocoa powder and stir until fully incorporated.
Add the liquids and beans. Pour in the crushed tomatoes and beef broth. Add the kidney beans and black beans. Stir well to combine everything, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
Simmer and develop flavor. Bring the chili to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened and the flavors have melded. Taste and adjust salt and cayenne as needed.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and finish with your preferred toppings — sour cream, cheddar, scallions, or pickled jalapeños for extra heat.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chili with Cocoa Powder — Bold, Unapologetic, and Entirely Yourself