By Kurt Kuhn
This weekend I was invited to sponsor and judge a chili contest in Bastrop County, benefiting Relay for Life and the American Cancer Society. From the moment we eased the truck into the parking lot of Leon’s County Store in Rockne, it was clear that this was not just any old chili cook-off. It turns out this was the last event in which cooks could earn points to qualify for the 43rd annual Original Terlingua International Championship Chili Cook-off. This was a real competition, and they meant business.
Now some of you are probably asking what qualifies me to judge chili—a fair question. I strongly believe that no one should be a judge without first demonstrating the right experience, expertise and proper judicial temperament. My background makes me well qualified to judge chili. First, I live in Texas. The Lone Star State knows chili the way New England knows lobsters or Washington knows apples. Second, I’ve eaten more than my share. In fact, one semester of law school I may have set a world record for the most consecutive days of eating chili. I was working in the Office of White House Counsel, I was broke, and chili was one of the cheapest meals in the government cafeteria (plus you got crackers). I know chili.
That having been said, I was slightly anxious as I slipped into the back room of Leon’s with the other judges and heard that there were 105 entries. I knew how important this was to each of those contestants, and I hoped my palate was up to the challenge. I began to relax as the official explained the rules: “judge each chili on its merits;” “apply the same standards to judge each entry;” “this is important;” “be fair;” “once the chili is passed, it’s gone, you can’t judge it again;” and “no double-dipping.”
Sitting around a rectangular folding table, my fellow judges and I worked through our allotted stack of chili entries with deliberation and military precision. We worked so well together, I was told later that we averaged one chili judged per minute. The cups of chili were passed counter-clockwise around the table, with each judge applying their own eyeball-and-sniff test before taking one spoonful to eat. After recording an individual score, each judge was careful to cleanse their palate with a pickle, a grape or a cracker, as well as the beverage of their choice. Every chili got the attention of each of the judges, and despite a few teary eyes and sniffles, we worked nonstop to get the job done.
At the end of the day, the most important thing that happened at Leon’s was that we raised good money for a very good cause, and it was great to have fun in the process. On the way home though, we laughed about how much the Third Court could learn from the chili judges: work well with your fellow judges; every case should be judged on its own merits; be fair and apply the law; and move the docket. And, last but not least — “this is important!” — no beans!
