The Time Capsule: Changes in the food cooking game
Last week to the left of this column was a thoughtful piece on sin, the Bible, tolerance and same-sex marriage. Below was one that focused, as it has in the past, on corrupt and greedy conservative politicians. (I’m sure we can expect one in the near future on the broken promises, deceit, scandals, cover-ups, fraud, waste, cronyism, over-spending, foreign relation disasters, disregard for the Constitution and bad manners demonstrated by the liberals currently in control.)
Sharing the page with these provocative and well-considered articles was mine, which was on Coors beer and Sterzing’s potato chips. My wife took note and wondered how I manage to keep a job. Good question and I understand her point. This column needs more substance, and starting next week I’m going to try.
I’d begin this week but today is Friday, the deadline is Monday, and I lack the dedication to work on the weekend. As a slothful, self-indulgent Conservative named Ronald Reagan once said, “Working on a weekend probably wouldn’t hurt anyone, but why take the chance?” At least he said something like that.
What I did for this column was call Elmer Lumsden. Regular readers might recall Elmer, so old he voted for Truman, still raising watermelons in south-central Texas. In addition to being a fixture at the annual biggest melon contest, Elmer competes on the smoked meat circuit and has, over the years, taken first place in a number of chili contests.
My melons languish in this cool monsoon, and I wondered about his. While he’s had a good year, the 60-pounder he was grooming for the contest was hit by a truck. He raised 10 acres, which he sells to a local grocery chain. The special melon (he called it Kong) was isolated and identified by a canopy that protected it from the sun. Even so, a driver out to pick up a load wasn’t paying attention and Kong got rolled.
I asked how he’d done on the barbecue circuit. Awful. He was through. His 18-hour brisket, which had garnered first place in the DeWitt County contest in 1950-something and won him dozens of ribbons in the decades since, no longer rates even an honorable mention. Same brisket, same method, same wood, yet he’s regularly beaten by meat that was over-seasoned and, in his view, cooked too fast on a fire too hot.
Elmer thinks judges no longer recognize authentic barbecue because they grew up on McRibs and liquid smoke. Their surf ‘n turf was beanie-weenies and fish sticks. Lacking a reference point, they don’t know good from bad.
When I noted barbecue judges were generally certified, he snorted and shifted to chili, claiming the authentic stuff is becoming a thing of the past.
Even in Texas, where chuck wagon chili originated, the recipe he uses—which allegedly won a state title—no longer scores. Winners submit concoctions that, Elmer laments, are not even chili. He saw one last winter that had lima beans and was garnished with chopped avocado. Using traditional beef, he’s lost to varieties made with bratwurst, barbecued pork, lamb, chicken, even Italian sausage. Chili is chili, Elmer insists, and soup is soup. If judges don’t know the difference they shouldn’t be judging.
In what he said was his last rodeo, he finished behind a vegetarian version that contained white beans and pumpkin pie filling. He suspects he could submit a strawberry cheesecake, call it chili and win.
With our food conversation doing nothing but arousing Elmer’s ire, I asked what he thought of the Texas secession movement. He’s signed on. He believes the federal government, growing as fast as the national debt, wants to control every part of our lives but is too bloated to manage anything—including itself. In an Independent Republic of Texas, he speculated, most Liberals would move to California and real chili might again be a winner.
Sorry; it wasn’t a good day to call Elmer. Next week we’ll do something of serious historical interest.
Roy Marshall is a local historian and columnist for the Red Oak Express. He can be contacted at news@redoakexpress.com.