London Bridge Chili

I have never been entirely sure why this chili makes me think about London Bridge.

But it does.

Not London.

The bridge.

Specifically, the bridge in Arizona.

This distinction matters.

When I was younger, somebody told me that London Bridge had been moved to the desert.

I did not believe them.

It sounded like the kind of thing people say to see whether you are paying attention.

Bridges are large.

Cities generally prefer to keep them where they are.

But it was true.

The old London Bridge was taken apart, shipped to Arizona, and rebuilt there.

I became very interested in this.

Not in England.

Not especially in architecture.

The logistics.

That part stayed with me.

Somewhere there had been a meeting where several adults apparently agreed that the reasonable thing to do was number a bridge, dismantle it piece by piece, ship it thousands of miles, and put it back together in the desert.

I admired the commitment.

Years later I saw a photograph of it.

There were palm trees.

This bothered me more than I expected.

Nothing was wrong with the bridge.

Nothing was wrong with the palm trees.

Together, however, they created a situation my brain wanted explained.

I spent quite a bit of time looking at the picture.

There was also a very handsome man standing near the railing.

I remember he had excellent shoulders.

He may have been wearing a white shirt.

This is not important to the bridge.

I am only mentioning it because I remember the photograph very clearly.

Anyway.

The first time I made this chili, I had the same feeling.

There was beef.

There was bacon.

There were beans.

There were jalapeños.

There were Anaheim peppers.

There were sweet peppers.

There was tomato.

There was broth.

There were enough ingredients that at some point I stopped thinking of it as a normal chili and started thinking of it as a construction project.

Everything belonged there.

But there was a lot of it.

Different pieces.

Different textures.

Different heat levels.

Things that did not seem like they had necessarily started in the same place.

And then somehow, after enough time in the pot, they did.

That was when I thought about London Bridge.

I realize this is not a useful explanation.

I considered changing the name.

I did not.

Some recipes are named after places because they come from there.

This one is named after a place because my mind made a connection and refused to let go of it.

The peppers are probably part of the reason.

The desert may be part of the reason.

The fact that this recipe contains several components that become one thing after enough assembly is almost certainly part of the reason.

The man with the shoulders is probably not part of the reason.

Probably.

What I like about this chili is that it is substantial without being complicated once everything is in the pot.

The bacon gives the beef a little smoke.

The Anaheim peppers are milder and deeper than the jalapeños.

The sweet peppers keep the heat from taking over.

The black beans and pinto beans make it hearty enough that you do not need much else with it.

And the tomato purée and beef broth give everything enough time and room to cook together instead of becoming a dry pile of meat and beans.

It is a very large pot of chili.

This is intentional.

If you are going to build London Bridge, you do not use six bricks.