Tarantula Jack's Chili -- American Food At Its Best

FOR MORE THAN A YEAR I have refrained from writing about Tarantula Jack.

I did so as a result of careful discussions about Tarantula Jack with my accountant, Philip M. Walter, CPA. Both Phil Walter and I agreed it might be improper for me to write about Tarantula Jack - no matter how splendid Tarantula Jack's chili was.

Finally, I could heed the advice (and the subsequent restriction) no longer. I fired Phil Walter and found another accountant, and was free to write about Tarantula Jack.

Phil Walter IS Tarantula Jack - and as long as I dragged my tax messes to him once a year (usually late), I thought it would be a conflict of interest for me to write about him.

I hated having to fire him, however. He is as talented an accountant as he is a chili cook - and he is a world-class chili champion. The main reason I hated firing him, though, had to do with his name.

I deeply desired, in case I was ever audited by the IRS - which seems inevitable, given my bookkeeping skills - to be able to say to a hard-nosed IRS agent, "Take it up with my accountant, Tarantula Jack, Esq."

How did all of this get intertwined? Several years ago, by the shores of Lake Union, I (aided and abetted by The Seattle Times) started the first statewide chili championship in the history of Washington. It was called the Washington State Championship Chili Cook-off and Duck Stampede. Philip M. Walter, CPA, read about it and was fascinated.

"A couple of years later, a small cook-off was held in Issaquah and I entered. And I won," Walter said. He continued entering, usually placing high, sometimes winning.

"I guess I have entered more than 200 chili cook-offs by now," he said. "Sometimes it seemed like a crazy thing to do - and it was, but it was also a wonderful hobby."

In a few short years he became one of the best. Not only one of the best in Seattle, Walter became one of the best in the nation.

To date, he has won or placed high in more than a dozen major competitions. This year alone, he came in seventh in the Mexican national contest, third in the New York regionals, first in Colorado at Aspen. His most prestigious win (and most lucrative) was capturing first place at Tropico, Calif., at the International Chili Society's huge cook-off in 1989. The prize: $25,000.

He has won state titles in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana and Colorado.

He is a large man and has always reminded me a little of Nero Wolf, enormously dignified, but with that hyperbolic sense of wry humor that is the lingua franca of the world of chili.

Hence, on his menu, one reads: "You may order it mild, medium or damn hot." And "Tarantula Jack's Championship Chili - open eight days a week."

Actually that is untrue for a couple of reasons. Although the University District chili parlor is open seven days a week, the Columbia Center outlet has more limited hours: 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday, and most of the business is takeout.

The parlors dispense five kinds of chili: the T.J. Championship Chili for $4.59 a bowl, and the Texas Chili, Cincinnati Chili, Laredo Chili and Vegetarian Chili, each for $3.89 a bowl.

In addition, you can order Mean Mike's Chili Dog ($3.39) and The Original Honest to Goodness Lady Bird Frito Pie ($2.89).

The dishes are quite different. My preferences are the Championship Chili (because of its authentic, cubed-beef texture and the added panache of it being the recipe that won Walter $25 Gs) and the Texas Chili, with its darker chili aftertones and a potent fragrance of extra cumin.

The championship recipe is made with cubed beef simmered in six different kinds of chilis. A light, bright red, it is served - most unauthentically - over a ladle of pinto beans.

Real Texas chiliheads consider beans of any kind to be a New Mexico aberration. You CAN get the whole bowl filled with the chili alone, but at double the price, said the counterman, a stalwart known simply as "Rhino."

The Texas Chili, darker and vaguely smokier, is made with ground beef. It is served over black beans, "for a flavor that will take you back to the Rio Grande."

The Laredo Chili, usually served with rice, is chicken-based and augmented with a touch of tomato. It's a pleasant, light chili, but I am not enamored of the texture. Made from ground chicken, reformed into nuggets, it avoids the stringiness that results from long-simmered chicken breasts, but is nevertheless less satisfying and less robust than the two beef chilis.

Cincinnati Chili combines both ground beef and ground pork with a hint of mole sauce and a dash of allspice, and is served southern Ohio style, over pasta shells.

Vegetarian Chili is on the menu for those who like everything about chili except its cattle-trail origins. It's lentil-based, quietly flavorful, and made with the same sauce combination used in the chicken-based Laredo Chili.

The origins of chili are somewhat obscure. It is known to have been served by the chuck-wagon cooks of the old Southwest, usually made from fresh beef (unaged and therefore tough) with wild onions and oregano. Often it was stewed up from dried and seasoned beef, like jerky or pemmican. By the days of the Texas Republic it was being sold by street vendors (almost always women, often referred to as chili queens) and military-camp followers in San Antonio.

Walter is not only a connoisseur of the genre, he is an accomplished scholar of the literature.

"It's America's food," he said. "One of the few foods actually invented in America. This is our heritage - and it is fun."

Well, pardners, that ends the tale of Tarantula Jack. You can find a genuine bowl of red, either in the U District or in the Columbia Center. Now all I need is an accountant who accepts an overstuffed shoe box of restaurant receipts as a business ledger.

## $ Tarantula Jack's, 4543 University Way N.E. Chili. Takeout, lunch and dinner (limited counter seating) 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. No alcohol. No credit cards. Information: 632-0089. (Copyright 1993, John Hinterberger. All rights reserved.) John Hinterberger's food columns and restaurant reviews appear Sundays in Pacific and Fridays in Tempo. Mike Siegel is a Seattle Times staff photographer. Cece Sullivan of The Times' food department tested this recipe.

---------------------------------------------- TARANTULA JACK'S 1989 WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP CHILI ---------------------------------------------- About 6 servings

3 pounds cubed top round (cut into about 1/2-inch cubes). 2 medium-sized onions, grated. 2 large cloves garlic, minced. 2 (10-ounce) cans chicken broth. 1 (8-ounce) can tomato sauce. 7 tablespoons chili powder. 2 tablespoons ground cumin. 1 cup water (only if necessary).

1. Saute the beef in a large skillet. Put into a large pot and simmer, covered, with the onions, garlic and broth for 1 1/2 hours. 2. Add the tomato sauce, chili powder and cumin. Stir; simmer for another hour. Add water if needed. Stir occasionally. Note: The original recipe called for using Gebhardts chili powder, but any good-quality spicy chili powder can be used. Add a little cayenne pepper or jalape(TILDE HERE:)no chili if more heat is desired.