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Cowpoke Chili — The Pot I Carry to Bessemer Every Saturday

Willie James had a good week. The aide at the nursing home called me Thursday to say he'd been more alert than usual, had eaten two full meals without prompting, had asked where Bernice was—which is a question that breaks my heart every time, because Mama is right down the hall in the memory care wing and Willie James doesn't know it, can't process the distance, can't hold the fact of her nearness in a mind that keeps losing its moorings. But he asked. He was asking. The asking means he's still there.

I drove to Bessemer Saturday with a pot of black-eyed peas and rice and a pan of cornbread, Daddy's food from as far back as I can remember. Black-eyed peas were Daddy's Sunday food, the thing Bernice made when she wanted him to feel like he was home no matter where they were. They lived in a tiny house on Fifteenth Street in Bessemer for forty years, and every Sunday after church there were black-eyed peas on the stove and the house smelled like comfort and purpose. I make them the same way—smoked meat, the pot liquor, the long slow simmer until the peas are soft and the broth is dark and seasoned with everything Bernice was.

Daddy looked at me when I came in and said, "You look like your mother." This is the most frequent thing he says on his lucid days, and it used to make me sad because I could never decide if he thought I was Bernice or just meant it as an observation, but lately I've decided it doesn't matter. Either way it's true. I do look like my mother. I move like my mother. I cook like my mother. If Willie James sees Bernice when he looks at me, then Bernice is still visiting him every Saturday, and that is enough, and it is beautiful, and I will carry it.

He ate two bowls of the black-eyed peas. He said, "Good," the same way Mama says good—that single syllable, the full weight of approval compressed into one sound. I drove home on I-65 south with the empty pot in the back seat and my heart cracked open a little and full at the same time, the way it is most days now. Cracked and full. I am learning to live in both at once.

Daddy ate two bowls that Saturday, and I drove home knowing I’d be back next week with another pot of something warm—because that is what I do now, and it is enough. When I don’t have time to let the black-eyed peas go all day, this Cowpoke Chili is what I reach for: smoked meat, a long slow simmer, a broth that deepens the longer it sits on the stove. It has the same bones as Bernice’s Sunday cooking—humble ingredients, patience, and the kind of flavor that settles into a person and says you are home. If you have someone you’re feeding through grief or distance or just the ordinary weight of love, start here.

Cowpoke Chili

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 50 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs ground beef (80/20)
  • 1/2 lb smoked sausage or kielbasa, sliced into half-moons
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 1 green bell pepper, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 cans (15 oz each) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles
  • 1 cup beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
  • 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil

Instructions

  1. Brown the meats. Heat oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the smoked sausage and cook until lightly browned, about 3 minutes. Remove and set aside. Add ground beef to the same pot and cook, breaking it apart, until no pink remains, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat, leaving about 1 tablespoon in the pot.
  2. Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add diced onion and bell pepper to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Add the spices. Stir in chili powder, smoked paprika, cumin, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Toast the spices with the vegetables for about 1 minute, stirring constantly, until deeply fragrant.
  4. Build the pot. Return the browned sausage to the pot. Add the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes with green chiles, beef broth, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir to combine everything well.
  5. Add the beans. Stir in kidney beans and pinto beans. Bring the pot to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low.
  6. Simmer low and slow. Cover partially and simmer on low for at least 1 hour, stirring every 15–20 minutes, until the broth has darkened and thickened and the flavors have come together. Taste and adjust salt and cayenne as needed. For a thicker chili, remove the lid for the last 20 minutes of cooking.
  7. Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let the chili rest for 10 minutes before serving. Ladle into bowls and top with shredded cheddar, sour cream, sliced green onions, or cornbread crumbles if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 820mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 131 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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