Chorizo, Chickpea, Sweet Potato Chili with Preserved Lemon Gremolata (Photo by Christine Burns Rudalevige)

About 10 years ago I was a judge at the annual Chili Chowder Fest competition in Bath, the proceeds for which benefited the Midcoast Youth Center and Skate Park. My fellow judges and I sampled the contestants’ chilis first, and then their chowders, the creaminess of the latter sometimes cooling off the heat of the former. 

In retrospect, I may not have been the best choice for judging the best chili. 

As a native New Englander, I know my chowders, certainly. But chili wasn’t in the weekly dinner rotation of my youth. We leaned into Irish boiled dinners, Italian pasta dishes and Sunday roasts. My introduction to chili came in college in Connecticut, in the form of the loaded nachos served at a dive bar my friends and I frequented. In between the chips and the cheese was chili con carne. From there, I learned that pots of the stuff were a good addition to budget-friendly parties celebrating everything from that first crisp day in October straight through to the Super Bowl in February.   

I became proficient at making chili when my son played on the Brunswick High School basketball team and the booster club tapped players’ parents for crockpots full of the stuff to sell from the concession stand during home games. That is also when I realized it was a dish I could make almost completely from the local ingredients I had in the larder — a pound of ground beef, a few well-chosen spices, some type of chopped allium, the tomatoes I put up in August, and a bag of dried beans.

Yes, I understand there are Texans who assert that beans are blasphemy because only Texas Red recipes made of beef, chili, cumin and water hold true to how the mid-19th century cattle drivers, largely given credit for creating and popularizing the spicy stew, prepared it. This type of Texas chili spread nationally when cooks from San Antonio set up a chili stand at the Chicago Exposition in 1893. 

Digging further back into world culinary history, though, Spanish missionaries documented Aztec traditions of simmering chili, chocolate, tomatoes and indigenous game (likely turkey) in clay pots call xoctli. Today, the International Chili Society divides chili submissions for its annual competitions into four categories: Traditional Red (for the aforementioned purists), Homestyle (with beans), Chili Verde (the green chili and chicken variety) and Veggie (my editor said she was recently quite pleased with the one published in food writer Joe Yonan’s “Mastering the Art of Plant-Based Cooking” that featured plantains.     

But why stop in Central America for chili inspiration. That was the thought I had in my mind when I was digging through the pantry for dinner and discovered I had a pound of loose, spicy chorizo sausage, a tube of tomato paste, a sweet potato and a can of chickpeas. I made a Moroccan chili of sorts. Topping it with a dollop of Greek yogurt and a gremolata of preserved lemon peel, parsley and pistachios. It was a dish that comforted my husband when I told him we were having “chili” for dinner but impressed a foodie friend to whom I served it to as a North African-inspired stew. 

From there, I’ve worked up recipes for an Asian-inspired chili with minced pork, scallions, Korean guoguchang, and adzuki and soy beans; a Southern-inspired one with ground chicken, green tomatoes, tomatillos, cayenne and hominy; and a Mediterranean-inspired one with ground lamb, chopped tomatoes, garlic, red chile flakes, cumin, cinnamon, oregano and gigante beans. We’re talking more a ratio approach here, rather than a strict recipe. 

It goes like this: 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1/2 cup chopped onion, 1 tablespoon herbs, 1 tablespoon spicy element, 1 pound ground meat, 1 cup chopped tomatoes, and 1 cup broth to 2 cups of legumes. They go in the pot in that order, cooking for about 5 minutes over medium heat after each addition. Once you add the pre-cooked beans, reduce the heat to low, and cook, stirring every 10 minutes until the ingredients have gotten to know each other well, 50-60 minutes. Season with salt. And then just serve your global chili hot with cuisine-appropriate toppings. 

Chorizo, Chickpea, Sweet Potato Chili simmers on the stovetop while yogurt flatbreads cook in the cast-iron pan behind. (Photo by Christine Burns Rudalevige) Chorizo, Chickpea, Sweet Potato Chili with Preserved Lemon Gremolata 

This combination of flavors was a happy circumstance of using the ingredients I had in the house on a cold, rainy, winter’s day in Maine. This chili is best served with warm flatbread.

Serves 4

1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup chopped yellow onion
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoon harissa 
1 pound loose (Mexican) chorizo sausage
1 cup chopped, peeled tomatoes
1 cup chicken broth
2 cups cooked chickpeas
1 cup diced, unpeeled sweet potato
Kosher salt

GARNISH
1 tablespoon chopped preserved lemon peel
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
2 tablespoons chopped pistachios
1/4 cup Greek yogurt 

To make the chili, pour oil into a Dutch oven. Warm over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, 3-5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and harissa, and cook until fragrant, 3-5 minutes. Add the chorizo, using a wooden spoon to break it up into small pieces. Cook until browned, 3-5 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, bring to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes. Add the chicken broth, bring it to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes to reduce the liquid slightly. Stir in the beans and sweet potatoes, bring to a simmer, then reduce heat to low and cover. Cook for an hour, stirring every 10 minutes. Season to taste. 

While the chili finishes cooking, make the garnish. Combine the preserved lemon peel, parsley, and pistachios in a small bowl. 

Serve the chili in warm bowls with a dollop of yogurt and a sprinkle of gremolata. 

Local foods advocate Christine Burns Rudalevige is the former editor of Edible Maine magazine and the author of “Green Plate Special,” both a column about eating sustainably in the Portland Press Herald and the name of her 2017 cookbook. She can be contacted at: [email protected].