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Six-Bean Chili —rsquo; The Beans That Close the Season Right

Labor Day weekend. The unofficial end of summer, the weekend that closes the grill and opens the crockpot, that signals the transition from corn on the cob to corn casserole, from salads to soups, from eating outside to eating in. Iowa does this transition better than anywhere because Iowa has real seasons — not the polite seasonal suggestions of California or the endless gray of the Pacific Northwest, but actual, committed, unapologetic seasons that announce themselves with temperature drops and leaf changes and the specific September light that turns cornfields into gold.

We grilled one last time — burgers, brats, the last of the garden peppers charred on the grill. Kevin presided over the grill with the ceremonial gravitas of a man performing a seasonal rite. He grilled in his Iowa State sweatshirt because September evenings in Iowa require layers, and Kevin's grilling uniform has shifted from shorts and a t-shirt to pants and a pullover, which is how you know summer is over — not by the calendar but by Kevin's wardrobe.

I made baked beans one more time — the Fourth of July recipe, the brown sugar and bacon version, because Labor Day deserves baked beans and these baked beans are the best I make and the best I make should close the season the way it opened it. Bookend beans. Kevin ate two helpings and said, "See you next Memorial Day," which is what he says to the beans every Labor Day, as if the beans are seasonal employees who clock out in September and return in May.

Jack spent the weekend doing something he called "fall garden prep" — clearing spent plants, turning compost, amending the soil with the bags of leaves he'd been collecting from the neighborhood. He has a composting system now, three bins in varying stages of decomposition, and he checks them with the regularity and attention of a man tending livestock. The bins have names. I didn't ask what the names are. Some things a mother doesn't need to know.

Monday was quiet. The kids played in the yard. Kevin and I sat on the deck with coffee and watched the light change. The maple is starting to turn — just the edges, the first red hints, the tree's way of whispering what's coming. Fall. The season of cooking in, of crockpots and casseroles and the oven running at 375 and the house smelling like everything good. I'm ready. The pantry is full. The freezer is stocked. The canning jars line the shelves like a promise. We will eat well this winter. We always eat well. It's the one thing I know how to guarantee.

That batch of baked beans got me thinking about the deeper pantry — the one I pull from once the grill goes cold and the oven takes over. If the baked beans are the bookend that closes summer, then this Six-Bean Chili is the first chapter of fall: thick, smoky, deeply satisfying in the way only a pot of beans left to their own devices for a couple of hours can be. Kevin will say “see you next Memorial Day” to the baked beans, but this chili — this one doesn’t leave until April.

Six-Bean Chili

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 35 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground beef (80/20)
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 1 green bell pepper, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) navy beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
  • 1 cup beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons chili powder
  • 1 tablespoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • Shredded cheddar, sour cream, and sliced scallions for serving

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a wooden spoon, until browned and no pink remains, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat and set beef aside.
  2. Soften the aromatics. In the same pot over medium heat, add onion and bell pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Add spices. Stir in chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper. Cook 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly, to bloom the spices in the oil.
  4. Build the chili. Return browned beef to the pot. Add all six beans, crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes, and beef broth. Stir well to combine everything evenly.
  5. Simmer low and slow. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover partially and simmer for 45–60 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened and the flavors have melded. Taste and adjust salt or chili powder as needed.
  6. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with shredded cheddar, a dollop of sour cream, and sliced scallions. Serve with crusty bread or cornbread on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 380 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 13g | Sodium: 620mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 180 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

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