Cookbook Challenge #5: Coney Chili

One of the less-expected parts of being an adult is discovering how different things that you take for granted can be in other parts of the country. Case in point: coneys. I had no idea that Coney Island-style restaurants and the ubiquitous coney dogs are, in fact, a Detroit thing until I visited a friend that moved to the East Coast.

Of course they have diners. Some of these diners also sell hot dogs, but not as often as you think. Good luck getting a nice ladle of beanless chili on top of it.  And you certainly can’t take it for granted that you can get a gyro as well as a coney, because apparently Greek immigrants in other parts of the country don’t open restaurants they way they do here.

Some people look back on the their 20s and get nostalgic about Taco Bell, but for me it was always coneys: cheap, fast, filling, and available at pretty much every major intersection in the metro area. Our friends would congregate there on Sunday mornings for Hangover Helper and a rehashing of the previous night. My 3^rd shift co-workers and I would get beer and coneys at 7 a.m. at National, a perfectly logical thing to do after a long shift. David and I even went to Lafayette Coney Island after our wedding, because it was late and we were hungry and so were our friends.

There’s a lot of contradictory history about coney dogs in Detroit. After way too much time on the Internet, I feel confident saying the following:

1.  Coney dogs as we know them were most likely invented by Greek and Macedonian immigrants in the early 1900s and quickly became the working man’s lunch of choice (see above re: cheap, fast, filling, and readily available).
2. Detroit has the best coney dogs anywhere, despite efforts in Flint, Jackson and Kalamazoo, and also in Indiana, Minnesota, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, New York, and Texas. People in other states do some weird damn stuff and call it a coney but they’re clearly wrong (when they’re trying to do it right they call it a “Michigan,” a clear and unequivocal acknowledgment of our coney superiority).

While Lafayette is clearly the superior Detroit coney, I understand that different people have different (wrong) opinions about this. It’s all about the chili – just like Mom’s meatloaf, it’s the stuff of strong preferences, what you’re accustomed to, etc. etc., and once you find the one you like the best it’s hard to really consider others fairly.

With all of that in mind, it’s with a little trepidation that I present you with this homemade version of coney chili. In general, I think that anything you can buy in a can should be made at least once from scratch, if for no other reason than for you to concede the contest to the food scientists. My church recently did a Detroit-themed fundraiser lunch and it seemed as good a time as any to bust out the chili cookbook* and dust off a recipe I hadn’t thought of in years. While not quite up to Lafayette standards, it has the advantage of being in my refrigerator and therefore not requiring the putting on of shoes or driving anywhere in order to eat it; and also we can get the really good natural casing hot dogs and some gluten-free buns (not really all that good...). Detroit expats, I urge you to give it a try.

*Yes, I have an entire cookbook of chili recipes, including an Army recipe from 1896 and a buffalo chili recipe that serves 600. Ask me about your next party….

Coney Island Chili

Minimally adapted from The Great American Chili Book by Bill Bridges. I'm going to agree with the Amazon reviewer who said "I'm sure someone else would enjoy this book, just not me." It really is about the formation of the International Chili Society and reads like the social pages of the organization. Still - a whole cookbook of chili recipes! It's staying on the shelf. 

½ cup olive oil
¾ lb 70% lean ground beef
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 teaspoon chili powder (or to taste)
1 ½ tsp sugar
½ tsp turmeric
½ tsp oregano
½ tsp cumin
½ tsp paprika
1 ½ tsp cornstarch
¼ cup water

Heat the oil in a large skillet, then add the beef and cook for about 3 minutes. Make sure the meat is broken up very well. Add all the remaining ingredients except the cornstarch and water. Cover and cook for 20 minutes, stirring frequently. Add a little water if it’s too dry or sticking excessively to the bottom of the pan; you should be able to envision ladling this evenly along a hot dog.

Mix the cornstarch and water and add to the chili mixture. Simmer for about 10 minutes or until thickened.