Tag Archives: jalapeño

Chile con Queso

I made this Chile con Queso recipe (courtesy of Ree) for the first time for our yearly New Years party back in the olden days (2009), and a double batch was consumed by the dozen people in attendance before I could say “Great Scot!”

It’s delicious. It uses Velveeta. It’s not the kind of food I normally make . . . but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be broken out for parties. Especially now that it’s football season–though our viewing of choice on the evening of the Velveeta was Ken Burn’s new documentary about Prohibition.

And . . . it is still football season, right? I drafted this post at least a month ago, and now I’m feeling quite uncertain about it. The world of American sports–it’s so confusing.

Anyway, I must say that there’s something so Midwestern about Chile con Queso. It just seems like one of those appetizers that every cook from Illinois to Indiana to Wisconsin to Ohio probably has in her arsenal. And being a native Midwestern woman, I feel like making this is somehow connecting me to the countless other women who use Velveeta in their homestyle cookin’, and who don’t regret a single second of it.

As I mentioned yesterday, our Bible study group meets at our house on an alternating basis this year, and I’m using this as the opportunity to make all the less-healthy foods that my little heart desires. Because once it’s spread into small portions, no one gets the brunt of the fat, but everyone gets the pleasure of the flavors.

 Amen? Amen!

Ingredients

(Serves 12)

32 oz Velveeta Cheese Loaf
1 lb hot sausage (like Jimmy Dean’s)
1 large onion
1-10 oz can Rotel (diced tomatoes with chilies)
1-7 oz can chopped green chilies
1-3 jalapeños, to taste
Chips, to serve

Mince the onion!

I like the chunks on the smallish side, so that no one gets too much onion in one bite later on.

And I’d like to take this moment to point out that this sausage expires on October 20th at exactly 11:00.

Not a minute earlier, and not a minute later, apparently. At 11:01, run for the hills!

Fry the sausage and onion together in a large nonstick skillet or pot over medium heat, breaking up the sausage into crumbles as it cooks.

If necessary, when the sausage is cooked, drain the excess fat.

I did not drain the excess fat, just for the record. I was feeling vreeerrry bad, and loving every second of the experience.

Cut the loaf of Velveeta into smallish cubes. I cut it directly on its packaging to save the trouble another dirty dish.

And does anyone else pronounce the word ‘trouble’ as ‘trooblay’ every so often? Just for kicks? No?

With the heat on medium low, add the Velveeta . . .

. . . Rotel . . .

. . . and green chilies to the onion/sausage mixture.

Stir it occasionally until the cheese is melted.

Mince the jalapeño/s.

I removed most of the seeds and membrane, but in restrospect I think I could have handled the full blast of the heat. Stir it into the Queso.

Transfer the Queso to a crock pot to keep it hot.

Ponder its creaminess–then experience its creaminess firsthand.

There must be some kind of melting magique that they inject into that Velveeta.

Serve with chips!

This really shoudn’t be this good . . . but it is.

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Frijoles Charros

This recipe is an old classic, taken from my teenage recipe collection. Behold the binder of my youth!

My sister Erica and I bought matching binders when I was about 16 years old, and faithfully copied in our favorite family recipes. However, in my enthusiasm for Tasty Kitchen, America’s Test Kitchen, and various and sundry food blogs, I haven’t accessed the lore in this little book for quite a while. I wonder what else is in here . . .

. . . oooh! Pork Shreds with Hoisin Sauce! I must mend the error of my ways and make some Mom classics.

As for these beans, I just love them.

When I was first drafting this post, I was under the impression that Mom learned how to make this dish when she studied abroad in Mexico during her college years. Thankfully, I took the time to check my sources, and it turns out that she learned it when we lived in Valencia from our neighbor Wendy, who in turn learned how to make it in Mexico. I think. Either way, for me it brings back so many comforting childhood memories. Thanks for so many years of quality food, Mom. You fed us well!

Ingredients

(Serves 6-8)

2 1/2 – 3 cups brown, black, red or pinto beans
1 onion
1-28 oz can diced tomatoes
6 cloves garlic
1 lb bacon
1 bunch cilantro
2 jalapeño chilies
Salt and pepper, to taste

Cover the beans with water and soak them overnight.

That picture kind of looks like a cloud of darkness, but I promise–there are beans in there.

The next day, when you’ve rolled up your sleeves and you’re ready to cook, rinse and wash the beans under running water.

Yep, that stream of water is looking quite weak. In fact, in about an hour our water was about to be turned off for the rest of the night. Why the City of Chicago waited until 5pm on Monday to start working on a leak that had reduced our water to a thin trickle 3 days prior is a mystery to me–all I can say is that we fell asleep to the tune of drillhammers tearing up the street at 11pm. Thankfully the project manager warned me that our water was about to be off just as I turned into our apartment complex, which enabled us to stockpile the H2O like aquabandits:

But back to the beans! Once they’re nice and clean, return them to the pot . . .

. . . and cover them with water (about 1 inch above the beans). If perchance you forget to soak the beans, just increase the cooking time by about 1 1/2 hours.

Let’s gather the remaining ingredients to our collective bosom:

Add the can of tomatoes to the pot:

Mince the garlic and toss it into the pot–or you can squeeze it straight in with a garlic press. I think I’ll call mine a ‘garlique press.’ It makes me feel more French.

Chop the onion finely (okay, my chop was quite rough) and toss that in the pot too:

Mince up the jalapeño chilies:

You can remove the seeds to suit your preferred level of spiciness–I cut out the seeds from one and left them in the other.

Toss ’em in the pot!

Are you sensing a pattern here? A ‘tossing in the pot’ pattern? In fact, it’s beyond me why this recipe isn’t just called ‘Toss ‘Em in the Pot Beans.’

Roughly chop the cilantro . . .

. . . and you guessed it. The thing with the pot again. But only toss in half of the cilantro, because the other half is going to be a garnish!

This is my bowl of reserved cilantro–it will add a note of brightness to what could otherwise be a very brown dish.

Dice the bacon . . .

. . . and fry it until crisp.

Nope, still too floppy.

Zer ve go, fraülein! This blog brings out the weird accents in me–it just can’t be helped.

Reserve a small amount of bacon for a crispy garnish . . .

. . . and then add the rest to the pot as well.

As you can see in the above picture, I didn’t wait until the bacon was done to start cooking the beans. Basically, as soon as the beans are rinsed and covered in water again, I turn the heat on medium high and bring the beans to a boil. Then I add ingredients as they become available. This saves time, which is key since this dish has a looooong cooking time. Once the beans are boiling, lower the heat, cover the pot, and cook for 2 1/2 to 3 hours (until the beans are very tender), stirring occasionally.

The colors were very bright to begin with, but as it cooks all the ingredients will start to Become One. Unfortunately, the bacon will also become floppy again–there’s no way around it. That’s why setting some crispy pieces aside is so key.

See? Uglier, but so much more delicious!

During this time, add generous amounts of salt and pepper:

Check the pot periodically and add water as needed so that the beans stay covered. During the last half an hour of cooking, remove the cover so that the excess water evaporates:

As soon as you’ve tasted it, the beans are soft enough, and the seasoning is to your satisfaction, serve over rice!

Don’t forget to sprinkle that extra bacon and cilantro over top.

This always hits the spot.

I love this dish like it was my own child.

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