Earlier this month, cousins and aunts and uncles from my mother's side of the family met in Hallettsville at my grandparents' house (who are both deceased) for what we hope will be the first annual Kallus Reunion and Chili Cook Off. My grandparents were Texas Czechs 100%; both of their fathers were actually born in Moravia. But steaming, spicy chili runs deep in the veins of their descendants, supporting the "Texas" half of us being Texas Czech.
My family is so big that there were six other entries in our cook off. The real reason for the event was just for us all to get together during the year at a time other than Christmas, but my uncle George and lots of cousins took the contest very seriously. Plus we had to collectively feed 47 people, so seven pots of chili was a great way to do it. If the rest of my cousins and aunt and uncles had attended, there would have been over another 50 people at the event. I wonder what the backyard and kitchen would have looked like with six or seven more teams. But the more the merrier, for sure, though we probably would have had to rent port-a-potties.
I have very specific ideas about what "chili" means, so was surprised at some of the creative and tasty recipes that my cousins used. Ingredients ranged from tomatoes to potatoes, cinnamon to Serranos and meats included not just traditional beef, but venison, elk, and pork. Some chilis were spicy, some were sweet. Two teams cooked outside on propane burners, some of us cooked on my grandmother's stove inside, and some people brought their's already made and kept it warm in crock pots.
For dinner, family members ate bowls of chili sprinkled with cheese or raw onions, poured their chili over hot dogs, or made Frito pies. We served fruit salad and a grilled corn and zucchini salad on the side with chips and dips and homemade klobasniks and cookies all at the same time. There was beer, wine, iced tea, and lemonade.
I spent many weekends in junior high and high school at cook offs around South Central Texas. My father and the team he was a part of (which included friends and my Uncle Johnny Kallus) won many chili contests, but also barbecue, beans, sauce, and "wild card" contests. My father and his team even represented Texas at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in 1996, hauling their huge barrel barbecue pit all the way to the National Mall in Washington D.C. to do cooking demonstrations. The chili recipe his team (Bull Hookers Chili) refined was my go-to recipe for the family contest. It had won serious competitions and was my idea of what chili was supposed to be. I had not however, as far as I can remember, actually made my Dad's chili more than maybe once or twice, probably over a decade ago. But I'm a good cook and didn't have much time to think about the process beforehand, so decided to just throw it together the morning of our family get together.
My family is so big that there were six other entries in our cook off. The real reason for the event was just for us all to get together during the year at a time other than Christmas, but my uncle George and lots of cousins took the contest very seriously. Plus we had to collectively feed 47 people, so seven pots of chili was a great way to do it. If the rest of my cousins and aunt and uncles had attended, there would have been over another 50 people at the event. I wonder what the backyard and kitchen would have looked like with six or seven more teams. But the more the merrier, for sure, though we probably would have had to rent port-a-potties.
I have very specific ideas about what "chili" means, so was surprised at some of the creative and tasty recipes that my cousins used. Ingredients ranged from tomatoes to potatoes, cinnamon to Serranos and meats included not just traditional beef, but venison, elk, and pork. Some chilis were spicy, some were sweet. Two teams cooked outside on propane burners, some of us cooked on my grandmother's stove inside, and some people brought their's already made and kept it warm in crock pots.
For dinner, family members ate bowls of chili sprinkled with cheese or raw onions, poured their chili over hot dogs, or made Frito pies. We served fruit salad and a grilled corn and zucchini salad on the side with chips and dips and homemade klobasniks and cookies all at the same time. There was beer, wine, iced tea, and lemonade.
The real spiciness, the real sweetness of the day, came from the conversations, jokes, smiles, and stories shared among first cousins, grandchildren and grandparents, aunts and uncles. My grandparents moved into the house we were having fun in in 1938 and every single person at the event, from my 79 year old uncle to the one year old daughter of one of my cousins, had known the house their entire lives. When we were little, my first cousins and I would sleep in the living room on palettes, giggling late into the night, and listening to our parents talking in the kitchen. Now we're making the palettes for children and grandchildren and we're the ones up until midnight with a beer playing Scrabble or cleaning the kitchen. My grandparents are dead and even my mom passed away this year, so being with my cousins and aunts and uncles in my grandparents' incredibly special house grounds me and reminds me how I, at least in part, became who I am. Cooking together, sharing food, and cleaning up afterwords are a big part of that.
So, though we only gave out trophies (donated by my dad from his extensive collection) for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place for chili (plus a Showmanship trophy), really we all won big emotionally. Four of my cousins and their whole families flew from Las Vegas to reconnect with Texas family and spend time together... a huge and immensely generous effort. The event stretched into a whole weekend - we fed each other, talked and listened to each other, and loved each other. It was a beautiful thing and we were quick to set the date for next year. (When I will be defending my 1st place win with my Dad's recipe.)
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| Photo by Dougal Cormie |
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