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Hormel Plant Based Chili

Hormel chili
Yum?

Do I like chili?

I like the chili I make, as I know each ingredient I put in it. (I'm still not clear why I put cumin in. I do not enjoy the flavor and do not see what positive attribute it contributes to the pot, but it is in the recipe, so in it goes.)

I learned to enjoy my mother's chili, though I resisted it in my early years on the grounds that it looked gloopy and digested. It tasted delicious, of ground beef and red beans. Adding in the ubiquitous white rice to cut the richness and absorb juices escalated the experience.

Hormel chili label
"Style product"?

Do I have the slightest interest in chili from a can? I never have before. It has too much mental attachment, informed by movies of roustabouts hopping trains and cowboys on the range. Both ate their chili straight from the can, heated over an open fire.

I appreciate cinematic authenticity, but I will not be doing this. Per the instructions on the can, I will be slopping it into a bowl and microwaving it. To entice me further, I will have it with white rice, though the jasmine version. It's fancier.

Let us pause to consider what this chili has going for it. It is vegetarian-friendly. I am not, but it is nice not to have to deal with suspect chunks of canned beef. I can better trust soy crumbles.

For the sake of fairness, beyond a side of rice, I will not be adulterating it. I have some sauce left over from the last BzzAgent delivery -- my dear mother-in-law bought me the two versions that did not survive transport -- but I must rate this chili solely on its virtues or the lack thereof.

Hormel chili box
Hypocrite

Given that it is advertised by its plant-based content, the box's suggestion to slather a hot dog with it seemed comical. (And there was no way that hot dog was of the meatless variety. They could call that the Hypocrite Dog.) It is free of dairy, eggs, or artificial flavors. I am not suggesting that they slap a picture of someone pouring it over a side salad, but the target market will be vegetarians. It is concerning that it is not chili, but a chili style product. It might be better that I not understand the distinction.

I should be clear here that this is not meant to be, per se, a vegetarian chili. Those are easy enough to make -- don't include the beef. This is a meatless chili, meant to approximate what it is to eat a hearty chili that is more than beans and tomato paste. (As I make vegetarian chilis, do not let this be construed as bagging on them, simply that they are uncomplicated for someone who knows how to wield a spice rack.) As such, I will not compare it to a vegetarian chili because, though this can contains no meat, that is not what it aspires to imitate.

I poured half of it into a small bowl for examination and photographing before eating it. It looked not unlike dog food. A quick sniff suggested that this was not the worse comparison. I had a dog who preferred more upscale fare. This would not have looked out of place in his bowl. On the other hand, it is chili from a can. What can one expect?

I microwaved it, but the aroma was not improved much by heat. Still, I take my role as a sampler of free goods seriously and would not back out.

If I had made this, I would have sorted through the recipe to figure out where I had gone wrong. I could not pinpoint exactly what in it didn't work well, but it had a strange taste that lingered for about ten minutes after I had eaten it.

However, it wasn't bad. Though I had not had chili in years that was not freshly made by a person whom I could look in the eyes, this was not bad. I finished the can, not sure I would care to have it linger in my refrigerator, but I was not sorry for this. Unless one wished to focus too closely, the plant-based meat could easily pass for something that had come from an animal. A carnivore being served this might object to the taste I could not deduce (too much turmeric or yeast extract, or else some "natural flavor" that has gone otherwise unnamed on the label? Cumin?), but they couldn't point at the protein as the culprit. However, given the spices, it would not be difficult to hide the sometimes odd flavors of meat alternatives.

With my rice, it made for a satisfying and not overly caloric meal, under 300 calories for a can, with 22 grams of protein. It is objectionably salty, almost 70% of my recommended dosage, but that is the nature of the (meatless) beast. Enough salt will mask more than a few flaws.

Would I buy this? I cannot imagine a reason why I would. I like the idea of meat alternatives, but not in this form. Should you buy it? If you like canned chili, you could do substantially worse.


Thomm is a corporate shill and will possibly review your product if you sent it to him for free.
He will probably be snarky, though.
Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. He has published four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings.