Chilly Evenings and the Best Venison Chili Tradition

Alright, gather round because I’ve got a story (and, yes, a recipe!). Every fall when the air turns crisp and the kitchen windows fog up from simmering pots, I bust out my special venison chili. This all started years back at a family camp trip—the one where someone forgot the beans (not naming names, but you know who you are)—and we improvised with what we had. Actually, that might’ve been the first time I realized chili is less about following a script and more about just chucking in what you love. Or what you find in your pantry, if I’m being honest. Anyway, ever since then, I can barely make it through autumn without a big bubbling pot of this stuff, so here goes…

Why I Basically Live On This Chili All Winter

I make this when we’re all cold, a bit moody, or I’ve just finished cleaning out the freezer (a not-so-glamorous but real part of venison ownership). My family goes crazy for this because it’s hearty, has just enough kick to clear your sinuses (but not so much your cousin Bob can’t handle it), and—let’s be real—I can sneak a few more veggies in without much resistance. Oh, and it’s one of those forgiving recipes: burned the onions a tad? No problem. Forgot to defrost your venison? Been there, just run it under some water while you chop the rest, nobody will ever know.

The Ingredient List (a.k.a. “What’s Actually in This?”)

500g (about 1 pound) ground venison – or beef, if Bambi’s not in your freezer. Sometimes I’ll do half and half if I’m running low.
1 large onion, chopped – red, yellow, honestly, whatever loafs around in your veg drawer.
2 cloves garlic, minced (or, look, I’ve used the squeeze tube before, don’t tell my grandmother)
1 red bell pepper, diced – green is fine too, but red’s sweeter and I’m a sucker for color.
1 big carrot, grated (shh, nobody will notice)
2 cans (400g/14oz each) chopped tomatoes – any brand, sometimes I even use whole and mash ’em myself, but that’s just me being fidgety.
1 can (400g/14oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed (black beans work too, or a mix, or skip if you must—see camp trip story)
2 tablespoons tomato paste (or ketchup in a pinch, which, yeah, I’ve done when I panicked mid-cook)
1 tablespoon chili powder – maybe less if you’re spice-shy, a little more if you’re like my uncle from Texas
1 teaspoon cumin (optional, but it kinda rounds everything out)
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (seriously, try it – makes a difference though regular paprika’s fine too)
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
Black pepper – however much you feel
1 cup stock (beef, chicken, veggie, even just water if you forget – I have and it turned out fine, honestly)
Optional: a splash of beer or a bit of dark chocolate at the end, which sounds odd but adds depth. Trust me.

How I Throw This Together (More or Less)

Start with a decent-sized pot—doesn’t matter if it’s cast iron, though I’ll admit I love mine. Get it hot, add a splash of oil, then toss in the onions. Cook ‘em till soft, stirring when you remember. If they stick a bit, that’s actually good flavor (just don’t leave them too long!).
Next goes the garlic and bell pepper. Maybe 2-3 minutes, just to take the edge off. This is where the kitchen starts smelling forgiving.
Add in the venison, breaking it up as you go. Brown it pretty well. If it seems dry, splash in some stock early. Don’t worry if things look kinda messy—mine always does at this point. Sometimes I sneak a tiny taste here, just to check seasoning, but maybe that’s just an excuse for nibbling.
Okay, now dump in the tomatoes, grated carrot, tomato paste, spices and salt. Give it all a good stir. If you’re using chocolate or beer, wait till the simmer stage.
Pour in your stock (or water). Stir, bring to a simmer, lower the heat, and put a lid mostly-on. Let it gently bubble for at least 30 minutes (longer is better, unless you’re starving, in which case, 20 mins will do). Stir every so often and scrape the bottom so nothing glues itself to the pot—ask me how I know.
Now, beans go in. Give it another 10-15 minutes. This is probably when your family starts hanging around with spoons, pretending it’s for a “taste test.”
Check seasoning. Adjust salt, maybe a pinch of sugar if it’s a bit too tart. Or more chili powder if you’re feeling bold!
Serve hot, scoop out big ladlefuls. But you can let it rest a bit too—I think it’s even better after a short wait (or next day, no joke).

Notes from Too Many Chili Nights

If the chili looks thin, just cook it a bit longer uncovered, or mash some beans to thicken it up. I never bother with cornstarch but you could, I guess.
I used to be terrified of adding too much spice; actually, a bit of cayenne is nice- just a smidge.
Venison is lean, so don’t panic if there’s not much fat – the veg and stock make up for it.
I’ve reheated this in a microwave, on the hob (stove for my US pals), even in a slow cooker I forgot to wash. Still good.

How I’ve Experimented (and Occasionally Failed)

I swapped in lentils once for the beans – not bad, but definitely not chili. More like… chili-adjacent stew.
I tried using sweet potatoes instead of carrots. Tasty! But it did make things a little mushy by day two.
Added corn once because I saw someone do it online. Actually, I liked it, but my dad wasn’t convinced so now it’s a sometimes thing.

The Gear I Actually Use

Large pot or Dutch oven (if you only have a deep frying pan, just go easy with the stirring and maybe split the batch in two)
Sharp-ish knife for veg, though I did once use a bread knife when everything else was dirty. It worked, sort of.
Wooden spoon — or really, any spoon, even that slightly melted plastic one at the back of your drawer

How to Store (But It Never Sticks Around, Honestly)

Technically, you can keep leftovers in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days (freezes like a dream for a few months). But, full confession: it rarely survives longer than 24 hours around here. Maybe if you stash a bowl at the back?

How We Eat It (Besides Standing at the Stove)

Bowl it up with shredded cheese, a dollop of sour cream and big heaps of cornbread or tortilla chips. Sometimes we sprinkle on green onions, or even a touch of hot sauce. My partner drowns his in crackers; my niece spoons it over rice (don’t knock it till you try it). Movie nights, snow days, or just random Thursdays – this chili shows up all the time.

Little Lessons I’ve Learned the Hard Way

Don’t rush browning the meat—if you do, you lose all that good flavor and it’s just… blah. I did it once, never again.
Don’t forget to stir now and then; otherwise you’ll be scraping burnt bits for ages (unless you like the taste of “well done”…)
Chili powder varies wildly. Once I used the hot stuff and the dog wouldn’t even go near the kitchen. Taste as you go!

Actual Questions People Have Posed to Me (Or Shouted Across the Kitchen)

Can I use a slow cooker? You bet! Just brown the meat first (important), add everything else, cook on low for 6-8 hours. That’s my trick for game days.
What if I only have frozen venison? Happens to me a lot. Thaw as much as you can (microwave or soak in cold water), then cook it anyway – it’ll break up as it browns.
Is it spicy? Not unless you want it to be. Add more chili powder or some jalapeños for heat… or just leave them out, no biggie.
Do I really need beer or chocolate? Not at all! They just give depth, but skip if it’s not your thing. Run with what you like.
Can I make it veggie? Sure! Swap venison for extra beans and toss in more veg. Try mushrooms, they’re weirdly meaty.
Can I double this? Oh, definitely. Just use your biggest pot, or do two batches if you fancy eating chili all week (pro tip: you won’t get sick of it, promise).

And there you have it. From my (occasionally messy, usually noisy) kitchen to yours. May your bowls be full and your spoons never far away. And if you ever end up with extra, call me. I’ll bring the bread.

Best Venison Chili