A Bowl For Jackie

Chili pre-qualifier mixed bragging rights, fellowship, and support

2:19 p.m. March 28, 2026

DUANE CROSS
MCO Publisher•Editor

There are few dishes in this country that can start an argument faster, warm a room quicker, or make folks feel more at home than a good pot of chili.

And on Saturday at Farris Creek Masonic Lodge, chili was doing all three.

Outside, a crisp breeze moved across the Square under a warm, sunny sky in the mid-50s. Inside the lodge, the air carried the scent of chili.

The lodge held a pre-qualifier for the upcoming Chili Cook-Off during Spring in the Hollow, with six members entering pots and the winner earning the right to represent the lodge in the inaugural April 25 event.

But the day was about more than competition. It was also a donation-only meal, with proceeds going to Jackie Byrom as she fights Stage IV Burkitt Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. That gave the gathering the feel of something Southern communities have long understood well: food as fellowship, food as a fundraiser, and food as a little friendly contest besides.

“The chili cook-off was my idea,” Joseph Lundy said, adding that the fundraiser piece came through Patrick Maynard.

That made Saturday’s event more than a tasting. It was a local version of an old American ritual – the public chili supper, the community cook-off, and the stubborn belief that the best pot is the one simmering right here.

When the Ladles Did the Talking

And for all the people in the room, it was strikingly quiet.

You could hear ladles raking through the crockpots. You could hear tasters scooping another spoonful from their bowls. But there was very little chatter. Folks seemed intent on the business at hand, weighing heat, thickness, seasoning, and whatever small secret each cook might have tucked into the pot.

Even with the friendly rivalry in the room, nobody seemed to lose sight of why folks had gathered.

Lundy has firm views on what makes chili worth eating.

“Seasonings,” he said. “For me, cumin, cayenne – I like mine warm, a little bit of heat on the back end.”

A banging pot needs depth more than brute force. It needs seasoning with some judgment. Heat matters, but flavor matters more. A good pot usually starts with properly browned meat, then onions, garlic, peppers, and spices layered in with a little patience.

The best versions often have one small twist – tomato paste cooked down, a splash of coffee, or maybe a bit of cocoa – not enough to change the dish, just enough to deepen it. Then comes the hardest part: letting it simmer long enough for everything to come together.

Peanut Butter, Cocoa, and Conviction

Maynard comes at it a little differently.

He said the most important ingredient is heart. After that, he is firmly in the beans camp, saying several different kinds belong in the pot, along with meat that has had time to simmer. He is not much for fiery chili, preferring spices that build flavor instead of heat.

His secret ingredient is peanut butter – specifically, Peter Pan.

“The peanut butter brings out a nutty, smooth flavor in the chili,” he said.

Unusual or not, every chili cook worth his salt seems to keep one little trick to himself. The point is not to make the chili taste odd. The point is to make the next bite better than the last.

Saturday’s event had no shortage of chili or opinions. Lundy said the lodge had eight or nine extra pots on hand, with a couple of churches bringing chili in addition to the contest entries.

He also said Jacob Clark turned in a strong pot, with Josh Tye close behind. Tye, Lundy said with a laugh, had put in minimal effort and did not especially want to advance to Spring in the Hollow, but found himself doing well anyway.

In the end, Clark won the tasters’ vote and will represent the lodge in the April 25 cook-off.

From San Antonio to the Square

What happened at Farris Creek on Saturday fits into a much older American story.

Chili in the United States traces back to chili con carne traditions rooted in Mexican and Tex-Mex foodways, especially in San Antonio, where the Chili Queens helped make it a popular public dish generations ago. In time, chili traveled well beyond Texas and into church kitchens, cook-offs, and home stoves across the country.

Which is how one of the great American food arguments traveled with it: beans or no?

In strict Texas-style chili, the answer is often no. For purists, beans get in the way of the meat, peppers, and red gravy that define the bowl.

In plenty of home kitchens, though, beans are not a scandal. They stretch the pot, carry flavor, and help feed more people. In other words, they do exactly what supper is supposed to do.

So the honest answer is this: If you are cooking competition Texas red, leave the beans out. If you are feeding family, friends, lodge brothers, or a room full of hungry neighbors, beans have every right to be there.

Nobody comes for bland chili.

A Bowl for Jackie Byrom

That is the beauty of chili. It can be dressed up for a festival, carried into a fellowship hall, or ladled out at a fundraiser. It can be mild or hot, with beans or without, built from old family instinct or a cook’s own secret twist.

At its best, chili still does what the best Southern food has always done: brings people in, sits them down, and reminds them they belong to one another.

On Saturday at the Masonic Lodge, it did exactly that. The cooks brought their best. The tasters took their work seriously. And in that oddly quiet room – with the spring breeze moving outside on the Square, and the scrape of ladles carrying inside – a community gathered in quiet appreciation, not only for the chili in front of them, but for Jackie Byrom, and for the simple conviction that no neighbor ought to face a hard road alone.