Bison Chili — Building Something Warm When Everything Feels Temporary

Sukkot this week — the harvest festival, the week of the sukkah, the temporary booth you build and decorate and eat in to remember that the Israelites lived in temporary shelters in the wilderness. We have a small sukkah in the backyard — Marvin and I have put it up every year for thirty-five years, a simple frame with fabric walls and a roof of branches that lets the stars through. This year David came to help me put it up because Marvin cannot manage the assembly anymore, and the three of us — me directing, David lifting, Marvin watching from his chair on the patio — got it done in an hour. It's not beautiful. It's not supposed to be beautiful. It's supposed to be temporary and open to the sky, because the point of Sukkot is fragility: we build something impermanent to remind ourselves that everything is impermanent, that we live in temporary shelters, all of us, always.

I find Sukkot more meaningful this year than I ever have, which is the kind of sentence I would have found unbearable in a student essay — too obvious, too neat — but it's true. Everything feels temporary now. Marvin's presence at the table feels temporary. My ability to care for him at home feels temporary. The good days feel temporary. So I sit in the sukkah and eat the etrog and lulav meal and look up at the stars through the branches and think: yes. This is the lesson. Everything is temporary. Build it anyway. Eat in it. Be grateful for the roof, even though the roof has gaps. Especially because the roof has gaps.

I made stuffed cabbage — holishkes, the Ashkenazi version, ground meat and rice wrapped in cabbage leaves and simmered in a sweet-and-sour tomato sauce. This is Sukkot food in my family — harvest food, fall food, the kind of food that takes patience and produces warmth. Sylvia's holishkes were legendary. Mine are very good. The difference between legendary and very good is about forty years and a mother's hands that I no longer have to guide me. I guide myself now. I guide myself and I roll the cabbage and I think of her every time.

I did not have Sylvia’s recipe written down in full — I have her handwriting on a torn envelope, her voice in my ear, and thirty years of muscle memory that still isn’t quite enough. Some nights the holishkes come out exactly right, and some nights they remind me only of how much I am still reaching for. On those nights I turn to something equally patient and warming, something that asks you to stand at the stove and tend to it, layer flavor onto flavor, let it simmer until the whole house smells like fall — a bison chili that carries, for me, something of the same spirit: harvest food, slow food, the kind of meal you make when you need to feel like you are building something solid, even temporarily.

Bison Chili

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs ground bison
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 large yellow onion, diced
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 2 tablespoons chili powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
• 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
• 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 1/2 cups low-sodium beef broth
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Optional toppings: sour cream, shredded cheddar, sliced scallions, pickled jalapeños

Instructions

1. Brown the bison. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add ground bison and cook, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside, leaving any drippings in the pot.
2. Sauté the vegetables. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion and bell pepper to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
3. Bloom the spices. Stir in the tomato paste, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, oregano, and cayenne. Cook, stirring constantly, for 1–2 minutes until the spices are fragrant and the tomato paste darkens slightly. This step builds the base flavor of the whole pot — do not rush it.
4. Build the chili. Return the browned bison to the pot. Pour in the crushed tomatoes and beef broth and stir to combine. Add the kidney beans and black beans. Season with salt and black pepper.
5. Simmer low and slow. Bring the chili to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover partially and simmer for 35–40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened and the flavors have come together. Taste and adjust salt and cayenne as needed.
6. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sour cream, shredded cheddar, scallions, or whatever your table calls for. Chili keeps well refrigerated for up to 4 days and improves the next day.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 370 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 10g | Sodium: 620mg