The hot pants chili recipe lives loud, steamy, and proud, built for story-worthy nights and second helpings.
You can feel the heat before you lift the lid. That warm punch of chile, onion, and beef. The kind of aroma that grabs friends by the sleeve and says, “Sit down.” No bean filler here, just depth and swagger. This chili doesn’t whisper; it sings. It’s the dish you wheel out when the week ran long and you need a win. Fire meets patience. Simple tools meet bold flavor. But nothing fussy. Brown the meat, build the base, and let time do the heavy lifting. The pot hums, the kitchen loosens, and everyone relaxes. Say the hot pants chili recipe out loud and you can almost smell the simmer. You’ll taste sweet notes under the smoke, a little nutty echo, and a late kick. The kind that makes conversation stop for a second. Then come back louder.
The Legend Behind The Heat
Some recipes carry a good story; this one brings a trophy. In 1974, Allegani Jani Schofield won the World Championship Chili Cookoff. First woman to take the crown. That alone would earn respect, yet the technique sealed it. She reached for mole paste and masa flour. Bold move, and it worked. Mole is a concentrated mother sauce, built slowly from dried chiles, spices, nuts, fruit, and chocolate. It melts into the pot and adds velvet depth.
Masa gives body without heaviness and finishes with a toasty whisper. The broth stays beefy and lush, not slick or thin. A lager beer brightens edges and helps everything mingle. You don’t need a pantry raid to chase that balance. A Dutch oven, a good flame, and a little patience will take you there. This is still Tuesday-night cooking, just dressed like Saturday. The hot pants chili recipe honors that tradition and keeps it fun. No lab coats. No stress. Just a pot and some music.
Ingredients
- 2 pounds 85/15 lean ground beef
- 2 white onions, diced (about 3 cups), plus extra for garnish
- 2 large jalapeños, seeded if you like, finely chopped (about 1/2 cup)
- 3 tablespoons mole paste (e.g., Doña María)
- 2 tablespoons minced garlic (about 6 cloves)
- 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
- 4 cups unsalted beef stock
- 2 teaspoons kosher salt
- One 15-ounce can crushed tomatoes, undrained
- One 12-ounce bottle lager beer
- One 1.25-ounce envelope chili seasoning mix
- 3 tablespoons masa harina (e.g., Maseca)
Toppings: sour cream, shredded Cheddar, sliced scallions
Hot pants chili recipe
Let’s cook like you mean it. Heat a large Dutch oven over medium-high until it feels ready. Add two pounds of 85/15 ground beef with two diced white onions. Stir often. You want crumbly, browned meat and most of the liquid gone in about twelve minutes. Tip in jalapeños, mole paste, minced garlic, and ground cumin. Stir while it wakes up, about two minutes, until fragrant. Pour in unsalted beef stock, kosher salt, crushed tomatoes, and a bottle of lager.
Sprinkle in your favorite chili seasoning mix. Bring it all to a rolling boil, then slide the heat low. Leave the lid off and let it thicken for about ninety minutes, stirring now and then. Mix masa flour with water until smooth. Stir that slurry into the pot. Simmer thirty minutes more, uncovered, stirring often. The texture should turn plush and spoon-coating. Taste, adjust salt, and breathe in that steam. The hot pants chili recipe rewards patience with a rich body and a slow, confident burn. When it looks glossy and smells like victory, you’re there.
Flavor moves that punch above weight
This pot hits all the notes. Beefy, smoky, and a little sweet on the back end. Mole brings cocoa’s hush, not dessert vibes. It rounds the heat and adds mystery. Jalapeños bring brightness, not a dare. Seat them if you like a gentler ride. Leave a few seeds for a friendly spark. Cumin leans earthy and cozy, the spice that makes kitchens smell like home. Lager opens the lanes so flavors travel.
Stock keeps the engine humming. Masa tightens the finish, so each spoonful feels composed. No beans needed. The meat and chiles shine without distraction. Garnishes stay simple and generous. Sour cream for cool contrast. Sharp Cheddar for melt and bite. Scallions for pop. A few extra raw onions for crunch. The hot pants chili recipe behaves like a seasoned band: every part in service of the song. If the pot tastes flat, give it five calm minutes. Heat often nudges flavor forward. If you overshoot the salt, add a splash of stock. Stir, breathe, and taste again.
Serve proud, store smart, win crowds
Plan on six hearty servings. Active time runs about thirty minutes; total time lands near two and a half hours. That window leaves room for setting the table and telling the story. Ladle big bowls and let the toppings fly. Cornbread makes friends with this chili, no questions asked. Tortilla chips do, too. Add pickled jalapeños if your crew likes a cheeky wink of acid. This pot plays well on game day and weeknights alike. It tastes even deeper tomorrow, so stash leftovers with a smile. Cool the chili, portion it, and freeze if you want backup comfort. Reheat gently until it shimmers again.
The hot pants chili recipe doesn’t lose its nerve after a nap. It settles in and gets smoother. Want a milder bowl for kids? Pull theirs early and stir in a touch more stock. Craving altitude? Finish your portion with a pinch of extra chile. Both paths stay true. One last taste before you share the pot. The sweet smoke, the lingering heat, and that buttery thickness from masa. That’s the moment. You built it. You kept the tradition alive. And you set the bar for next time, because there will be a next time.
Body callouts you’ll thank yourself for: keep the flame honest, stir with intent, and trust your senses. If the spoon stands for a second, you nailed the texture. If it slides right through, give it time. The hot pants chili recipe rewards patience. It also rewards curiosity. Swap the lager for a light amber if that’s your mood. Use yellow onions if that’s what you’ve got. Just keep the bones of the recipe firm: the mole, the masa, and the simmer. That’s the spine. The rest moves with you. Most importantly, serve it to people you like. Watch their faces soften on the first spoonful. That’s the kind of applause you can taste.