
A highlight of my year is judging a neighborhood chili (and apple pie) contest over Veterans Day weekend. Each year the competition grows, and the chili just keeps getting better.
Some participants get creative with their garnishes—topping their chili with crème fraîche, yogurt, sour cream, or an assortment of snacks like Fritos, Bugles, and tortilla chips. I’m always impressed by the effort and flavor combinations that home cooks bring to the table.
It’s a pleasure to support our veterans and be part of a community that celebrates good food and camaraderie. I was so inspired this year that I decided to share one of my own chili recipes.
Chili con Carne
Few dishes capture the spirit of American cuisine like chili. It’s a recipe (or recipes) rooted in tradition and culinary evolution .
I remember researching chili con carne when preparing to teach American Regional kitchen at the CIA. It was interesting to learn how different recipes are in various regions of the Southwest.
Historically, chili con carne originated in the American Southwest, influenced by Mexican cooking traditions and the resourcefulness of frontier cooks. Early versions combined dried chilies, spices, and meat preserved with fat — a practical meal designed to nourish and sustain. I wonder if the meat used was beef or bison?
Over time, chili evolved into a regional specialty, from Texas-style with no beans to the tomato-rich variations of the Midwest and beyond.
From a Chef's perspective, chili is a remarkable example of balance and chemistry. The heat of capsaicin — the active compound in chili peppers — stimulates the palate and releases endorphins, I like to add chipotle to my chili for a little depth of flavor.
This recipe represents my version of chili: deeply flavored, balanced, and satisfying. Whether you’re serving it for friends, family, or a neighborhood cook-off, it’s a dish that celebrates both tradition and taste.
Prep Time: 30 min
Cooking Time: 90 min
Yield: 10 portions
Ingredients
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
2 Cups Onions, small dice
8 ea Garlic cloves, minced
1 Cup Red bell pepper, small dice
1/2 Cup Red jalapeno pepper, minced
1 Cup Tomato paste)
3 lbs Ground meat (beef, bison, or lamb) 80/20 mix
3 Cups Plum Tomatoes, small diced
1 Tbsp Oregano dried/ I prefer fresh oregano leaves
1/2 Cup Spanish Paprika
4 Tbsp. Chili Powder
2 Tbsp Cumin, ground
1 tsp Cayenne Pepper
1 qt Brown Veal Sauce (Espagnole Sauce)
2 Cups Pinto beans canned product (optional)
t.t. Salt & Pepper
How to prepare Chili con Carne


Step 1
Assemble the ingredients; place all of the spices into a small, teflon pan and toast at medium heat, stirring with a wooden spoon. This will improve the flavor greatly. (especially if some of the spices have been in the cupboard for a long while)





Step 2
Dice the onions, peppers and tomatoes; mince the garlic. Reserve.
Step 3
Heat a heavy sauce pot, add the olive oil; when the oil is hot add the onions, peppers and garlic; cook until translucent; it's fine if the vegetables begin to brown. Stir with a wooden spoon. (about five minutes)
Add the tomato paste to the onions and continue to brown for three minutes.
Step 4
Add the ground meat and mix into the tomato/ onion mixture with a wooden spoon. Cook for 10 minutes at low heat, stirring and breaking up the meat as it cooks/clumps into small 'meatball' shapes.
Step 5
Slowly add the veal sauce, diced tomatoes and toasted spices to the chili, stirring into a smooth, homogeneous mixture.
Put on low heat and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Be careful not to scorch.
Top with sour cream, shredded cheddar, diced tomatoes, avocado, tortilla chips etc...

Years ago I traveled around the south for a few weeks researching some of the amazing foods of each region. In Charleston, I was introduced to a local pig farmer, Tank Jackson who manages Holy City Hogs. Tank and his wife raise heritage breed pigs and distribute the pigs around the country. He offers on-site cooking whole pig roasts, primal cuts and sausages, and I believe he produces the best pork in the country.

Years ago, while working as a chef in a busy continental restaurant, we featured grilled, fresh swordfish on the menu—finished with a generous spoonful of herbed compound butter and capers. It was popular and delicious. One afternoon, a seafood purveyor stopped by with a sample of frozen swordfish steaks, fully thawed and ready for evaluation. Curious, we grilled it side by side with the “fresh” swordfish we had been serving—fish we believed to be of high quality. The result was surprising. The frozen swordfish was superior—firmer, cleaner in flavor, and more consistent in texture. In contrast, our “fresh” fish, likely several days out of the water, lacked the same integrity. It was a defining moment and an important reminder: in many cases, properly handled and quickly frozen seafood can offer better quality than fish labeled as fresh. For chefs, understanding sourcing and handling is just as critical as technique—especially with a product as prized as swordfish.

The name "caponata" itself has a fascinating origin story. One popular theory suggests it derives from capone, the Sicilian word for mahi-mahi. Historically, wealthy Sicilian aristocrats enjoyed a sweet-and-sour fish dish. Because seafood was too expensive for the working class, local home cooks substituted fish with affordable, meaty eggplant. Over time, this creative peasant food evolved into the beloved antipasto we celebrate today, often rounded out with celery, olives, and capers.

The legendary New York-style cheesecake was famously popularized by Lindy’s Restaurant , an iconic Theater District deli opened in 1921 by German-immigrant Leo "Lindy" Lindemann and his wife Clara . A NY-style cheesecake has a dense but velvety cream cheese base, citrus zest, and a distinct cookie-dough pastry crus t. For years, I took the bus into NYC to work in amazing restaurant kitchens. On one bus ride I met and became friends with a manager at the legendary Lindy’s Restaurant. One day, he did the ultimate honor: he shared the closely guarded, original cheesecake recipe with me. This new recipe is directly inspired by that legendary Lindy’s classic, capturing its iconic velvety richness and signature flavor profile, but re-engineered for a modern, protein-packed lifestyle. Why This Recipe Delivers High-protein swap : Cottage cheese provides a clean, protein-packed base that replaces heavy fats without sacrificing richness. Silky texture : Blending the batter thoroughly ensures a velvety smooth consistency that rivals any NY-style cake. Savory-approved : Simple, foolproof assembly that requires no pastry-chef precision to get a perfect bake every time.

One of the great pleasures of my career is spending time each year working as a Culinary Educator aboard a cruise ship alongside my wife. She teaches baking & pastry while I focus on savory cooking and culinary techniques. Our travels take us to fascinating ports around the world, providing opportunities to explore local markets and study regional cuisines. I have a particular affection for the Mediterranean and always make it a point to seek out local variations of pesto, one of the world's great culinary treasures. One evening aboard ship, the pasta station served rigatoni with a choice of pesto, marinara, or Alfredo sauce. The cook prepared each order by reheating the pasta in hot water and then finishing it briefly in a sauté pan with the selected sauce. I watched in disbelief as he prepared to heat the pesto exactly the same way. "Horror!" flashed through my mind. Pesto is not a cooked sauce. Heating it aggressively dulls the fresh basil aroma, darkens its vibrant color, and diminishes the delicate flavors of basil, garlic, pine nuts, and extra virgin olive oil that make pesto so special. I may have startled the cook when I quickly called out, "Please don't cook my pesto!" Instead, I asked him to simply toss the hot rigatoni with the pesto off the heat, allowing the warmth of the pasta to gently release the fragrance and flavor of the basil. The result was exactly as pesto was intended to be enjoyed—fresh, vibrant, aromatic, and unmistakably Mediterranean.

As chefs, we spend years mastering sauté work. I remember my early days working the sauté station for lunch in a French restaurant in NYC. We served over one hundred guests in an hour-and the food was excellent — a dozen hot pans on the flat top, stocks simmering, mise en place of freshly chopped herbs, minced shallots, butter for mounting into sauces à la minute. There is rhythm to good sauté cooking. You learn quickly that great sauté work is not about rushing — it is about organization and control .




