Rufus Maclean and Royston Red Dog
Mystic Hounds of Hell Chili

by D. Grant DeMan

One bleak Sunday morning in mid-seventies Royston my head was bad, toll paid for a devil of a good time at a neighborhood orgy.

"You look like a ghost," Observed Eddy Telefer, "Go take a walk on the shore, why don'tcha?"

In high hopes of recovery then, I strolled, feet crunching through the pebble waterfront mists echoing those gray London movies in which crypt-robbers exhume moldy cadavers for macabre bone-splitters' nineteenth-century vivisection anatomy experiments sans flickering gaslights; now and then a fog horn sounded through gritty smog, damp and dead. Like my brain that dawn, throbbing with each cackle of a forlorn sea bird.

Even my yellow hound Buff gravely tagged along as if to say, "This here's no day to be out. No day for man, nor beast."

As if in a dream, I noticed a little beach fire and shock of blazing red hair on the lone stranger attending it, dressed in black boots and mariner's cape, who smiled engagingly as I approached.

"Hi, and what are you doing out here on such a dismal morning?" I inquired. "Maclean, Rufus Maclean's the name. I'm on the Pinto, tied up for repairs." He explained, stirring a black bucket of bubbling mixture over white-hot embers.

"It'll be ready in a shake. You're welcome to join me."

"That Chili smells good." My stomach and head perked up.

"That there is Royston Red Dog sir, hotter than the hounds of Hades; I learned it's ways a spell back from the Gonzales' down the Bay." He spooned some out into enormous pewter cups. "It stems from days when cash was hard come by, and a fella had to scrounge. Beans was easy, but meat...well, meat had to be caught for the most part. Old Chang up at the General Store made these long red hot dogs with saltpeter, spices and anything he could get. The rest is from them Royston amadillas."

"Amadillas? You mean armadillos?"

"That's the name Gonzales gave 'em. He said they was plenty where he came from, but the ones up here got no armor. Just fur, if you get my drift. They're in all these here channels."

"Ugh. Is that what we're eating?"

"Don't fret, son. I skinned them first. Just used the hind quarters. Good huh?"

It tasted mighty fine to me, I thought, rubbing tears from my eyes. A festive mood emerged. My new friend brought forth a crock of the finest rum I'd ever tasted, and we sang sea shanties, even composed a dedication to our victuals:

Oh the Royston Amadilla,
He's a wily little fella
As he scurries down the rocks from pond to ditch.
Should you catch him for your chili, don't forget to skin him silly,
'Cause his fur's enough to make your in'nards pitch.

We parted friends that day. "See ya son. Same time next year."

"Thanks for the time, Rufus. Red sails in the sunset and all that kinda thing." In summer I combed the long breakwater where ancient vessels had been chained and came upon a barquentine plank with a weathered inscription which read Pinto - Martinique. Might there have been two vessels with identical names hereabouts? A perplexing question which soon faded with others of my eventful life.

Next fall I wandered through the Cumberland Oriental Cemetery with a friend while crimson leaves swirled over a worm-eaten marker upon which I could barely read the names: Rufus Maclean - First Mate of Schooner, Pinto - Drowned in shipwreck, Royston, 30 October 1926.

I have not seen Rufus since, nor have I again visited the waterfront upon that anniversary. Also I did not inquire of any explanation why I was in receipt of the finest chili recipe in the world.

Or out of it, perhaps.

Just the memory lingers of a ashen day made bright as a picture in my grizzled mind. Of one devil of a guy, Rufus Maclean. And mystic chili, hotter 'n the hounds of hell.

Rufus Maclean's Royston Red Dog Mystic Hounds of Hell Chili
The Recipe Ingredients:

Eight pairs large critter hind legs, boned and chopped (If Royston Amadillas are not available, squirrel, rabbit, chicken or crow will do. Half the ingredients for raccoon or ground hog)

Mixing spoon each of lard and cooking oil.

Palm of each: allspice, cloves, cinnamon, coriander, cumin, oregano, sugar, salt, soy meal, black pepper, thyme, rosemary, parsley, lemon balm or grass, dandelion leaf, and sage. (MSG is optional)

A handful or so of your favorite hot chilies....i.e.. fiesta, Scotch bonnet, Jalapeno, Cayenne et al.

Six chopped onions.

Three heads of chopped garlic. Three sweet...i.e. bell peppers, chopped.

Five stalks of celery, chopped.

Anything else you can think of to your taste and desires. A half-glass of your best vinegar (or wine)

One glug of black strap molasses

Eight large tomatoes or one big can plus a dollop or two of paste

Three handsful of Pinto beans, precooked. (Optional)

A half-pail of water, on hand nearby.

Eight really long red hot dog sausages.

Method: Rub the condiment ingredients well into the chopped meat.

Heat oil and lard in a heavy iron bucket until it's hotter than the hounds of hell.

Throw in the lean spiced meat and stir really fast until it's close to charring. Dump in the chilies and stir quick.

Drop in the other chopped vegetables and stir for one minute.

Slop in the vinegar (wine).

Then the molasses.

Pour in the tomatoes and stir even faster.

Toss in the beans.

Agitate for about thirty seconds, then add sufficient water to keep consistency.

Stir and cook raising the bucket off the heat to simmer for about twenty minutes, or longer if you are not ravenous by this time.

Float the dogs into the mix carefully and heat another ten minutes.

Ladle out the results for your guests and sprinkle with cheddar or your favorite accoutrements.

Have plenty of chilled beverage refreshment on hand. (iced dark rum, sugar and lime juice - optional)

And have a devil of a good time.

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