For twelve years, the Wednesday chili at Holy Cross School has been known by many names. Students have called it ‘the stew,’ ‘the situation,’ ‘the orange thing,’ and, most commonly, ‘mystery stew’ — a title that has been both unfair and, to some extent, accurate, since lunch supervisor Carol Whitfield has guarded her recipe with a secrecy typically associated with classified government documents and secret family pie recipes.
Last Saturday, that recipe won the Nebraska Regional Chili Championship in Omaha, defeating twenty-three other entries and claiming a first-place trophy that now stands fourteen inches tall on the Holy Cross front office counter, wedged between a wilting fern and a lost-and-found bin containing nine single mittens.
Whitfield, 61, entered the competition on a whim, she said — after her neighbor dared her to. ‘He said, and I quote, nobody would want to eat your school chili.’ She paused. ‘He was wrong.’ The winning chili, which Whitfield describes only as ‘beef-based with a proprietary spice blend,’ was served to a panel of eleven judges who awarded it a near-perfect score of 97 out of 100. Points were deducted for what one judge called ‘an adventurous level of heat,’ which Whitfield said she considered a compliment.
The recipe itself remains secret. When pressed, Whitfield confirmed only that it contains no fewer than four types of pepper, at least two of which she grows herself in pots on her back porch, and that the correct simmering time is ‘longer than you think.’ She declined to elaborate further.
News of the championship spread through Holy Cross by Monday morning, and the response from students was immediate and, it must be said, deeply ironic. The Wednesday chili — previously so unpopular that cafeteria staff had taken to quietly offering an alternate grilled cheese option for students who asked — sold out entirely this week for the first time in recorded Holy Cross history. A line formed before the cafeteria even opened. Three students reportedly returned for seconds, which has never happened before, not once, in the chili’s twelve-year run.
‘I’m not sure how I feel about this,’ Whitfield said, surveying the empty chili pot at the end of lunch service. ‘For years they wouldn’t touch it. Now they want more.’ She shook her head. ‘Same recipe.’ She scraped the pot clean and began washing up.
The $500 prize money from the competition has reportedly been donated to the school’s kitchen equipment fund. Whitfield said she is considering entering the state championship in the fall. She has not yet told her neighbor about the trophy.
The alternate grilled cheese will remain available for students who still prefer it. No judgment.