Slow Cooker Glory: The Story Behind the Prize-Winning Chili That Won a Church Cook-Off
Every chili has a story. Some are born out of culinary experimentation, others from passed-down family traditions. But this one? This one came to life through years of trial, error, and fierce—yes, fierce—church cook-off competitions.
Let me take you back.
It was a chilly autumn evening, the kind where you can see your breath and everyone’s bundled in flannel, sipping hot cider. Our church’s annual fall party was in full swing, and with it came the most highly anticipated event of the season: the chili cook-off.
Now, you may think, “A church chili competition? How serious could that be?” The answer? Dead serious. This was no casual throw-some-beans-in-a-pot affair. This was culinary warfare in slow cookers. Over the years, I had entered the competition multiple times—each time bringing my A-game and each time falling short of the top three. It was both humbling and frustrating.
People went to extreme lengths to win. Some would make three-hour pilgrimages to specialty spice shops for handcrafted blends. Others would spend two full days prepping—roasting, grinding, simmering—like they were auditioning for a Food Network special. And while some of the entries were delicious, others… well, let’s just say not all of them were winners in the taste department. I even found myself wondering if a little friendly “ballot stuffing” had happened now and then. But hey, it’s a church competition—we’re all supposed to be above that, right?
Despite the years of defeat, I kept coming back, tweaking my recipe each time. I couldn’t shake the dream of seeing my name etched on that infamous ladle-shaped plaque in the church office.
And then—finally—victory.
My chili not only made the top three, it won. First place. The prize? A modest gift card and, more importantly, eternal bragging rights. Somewhere in that church building is a dusty plaque with my name on it, and yes, I fully intend to go find it one day for photographic evidence.
A Nod to the Real MVP
Before diving into the recipe, I owe a major thanks to my dear friend Lauri. Years ago, she passed along a chili recipe that served as the foundation for what would become my award-winning masterpiece. After several rounds of tweaking and personalizing, the final version became something uniquely mine—something that could hold its own in even the fiercest of chili battles.
What Makes It the Best?
This chili hits all the right notes. It’s made in a slow cooker—because who doesn’t love a meal that cooks itself?—and it combines hearty ground beef, black beans, and the smoky richness of fire-roasted tomatoes. What really sets it apart is the perfect balance of spice and flavor. It’s not the kind of heat that burns your tongue off, but it has just enough kick to keep each bite interesting.
And did I mention the texture? Chunky, meaty, rich—this is not your watery cafeteria chili. It’s thick enough to sit proudly atop a baked potato or be scooped up with a hunk of crusty bread.
Let’s Cook: Prize-Winning Chili Instructions
Here’s how it all comes together:
- Chop Your Veggies: Start by chopping onions, red bell pepper, fresh garlic, and jalapeños. These add depth, flavor, and just the right amount of heat.
- Sauté the Base: In a large pan, cook the ground beef with your chopped vegetables. Brown the meat until it’s fully cooked and the veggies are soft and fragrant. Drain excess grease if needed.
- Slow Cooker Time: Transfer everything to your slow cooker. Add drained black beans, fire-roasted diced tomatoes (with juices), a little tomato paste for richness, and your spice mix. I’m talking chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, oregano, maybe even a hint of cinnamon—yes, cinnamon! It gives it that “hmm, what is that delicious flavor?” element.
- Set It and Forget It: Cook on low for 6–8 hours or on high for 3–4. The longer it simmers, the deeper the flavor gets.
- Taste and Adjust: Before serving, give it a taste and adjust salt, pepper, or heat as needed. Want it spicier? Add a pinch of cayenne or a dash of hot sauce.
- Serve It Up: Ladle it into bowls, top with shredded cheese, sour cream, scallions, or even crumbled tortilla chips. Or keep it rustic and let the chili shine all on its own.
The Final Word
This chili may have won a humble church contest, but it earned a permanent spot in my recipe box because of more than a plastic ladle plaque. It’s cozy, comforting, and absolutely bursting with flavor. And maybe best of all—it’s doable. No need for rare spices or fancy techniques. Just real ingredients, slow-cooked with love (and maybe a bit of a competitive spirit).
Whether you’re cooking for your family, hosting game day, or entering your own chili competition, this recipe is your ticket to culinary victory. Just be sure to bring your own ladle—you might need a place to put that winner’s name.
