Food and Recipes Dish Chili My Grandmother’s Hot Dog Chili Recipe Is A Lesson In Southern Hospitality And of course it freezes beautifully. By Betsy Cribb Watson Betsy Cribb Watson Betsy is the Senior Home and Features Editor at Southern Living. She writes about a veritable potpourri of topics for print and digital, from profiling Southern movers-and-shakers and celebrating family traditions to highlighting newsy restaurant openings and curating the annual holiday gift guide. Prior to joining the Southern Living team in 2017 as the style editor, she worked at Coastal Living as an assistant editor covering pets and homes. Southern Living's editorial guidelines Updated on May 11, 2024 In This Article View All In This Article The Story Behind The Recipe The Recipe Close Photo: Photo: Greg Dupree; Styling: Heather Chadduck Hillegas My Boston-born-and-raised grandmother spent much of her adult life in the tiny town of Kingstree, South Carolina, which is 45 miles inland from Georgetown. (And if that’s not ringing any bells, it’s about 75 miles from Charleston.) She moved there with my grandfather, a surgeon with a passion for rural healthcare, and raised their four children in a place where stoplights were few and school events were many. After who-knows-how-many seasons of working the concessions stand at various football and basketball games, my grandmother became Williamsburg County famous for her hot dog chili. The Best Side Dishes To Pair With Hot Dogs At Your Next Cookout Her recipe is in the school cookbook from the ‘90s—and, more precious to me, in the three-ring binder of family favorites that my grandfather, mom, and aunts gifted my cousins and me a few years ago. They included a smattering of our go-to dishes, all penned in their personal handwriting, including that famous hot dog chili that my cousins and I grew up associating with Halloween and the Fourth of July. 50 Extra Festive Recipes For Your Fourth Of July Cookout The Story Behind My Grandmother's Chili My grandmother, whom we called Ghee Ghee, passed away in 2008, so it was up to my grandfather to jot down the recipe we loved so well. But while in his penmanship, the recipe still has her hands all over it. “Chili Sauce for the Masses,” her recipe declares, and it’s not hyperbole: It makes enough for “approx 125 dogs.” Of course, this was the portion she was stirring up for those long-ago sporting events, but it also isn’t far-fetched to assume she might have made such a batch on a random Tuesday night, just in case she needed to feed a crowd at the last minute. I remember riding in the back of her emerald green Ford Explorer once as a five-year-old, buckled into my Kangaroo car seat, and she stopped on the side of the road to pick up a hitchhiker with one arm. My eyes wide, I pointed out that we weren’t supposed to talk to strangers—much less invite them into our vehicle. “She's not a stranger,” Ghee Ghee shrugged. “It’s Martha.” Each time I go to make a pot of my grandmother’s chili—cutting the recipe in half and still freezing most of it—I’m reminded of what Southern hospitality is supposed to be. It’s not about setting the most beautiful table or twirling up impressive floral arrangements. It’s about saying, "The more, the merrier,” and actually meaning it. Ghee Ghee's "Chili Sauce for the Masses" Yields: Chili for "approx 125 dogs" Ingredients: 5 lb. ground beef1 (32-oz.) bottle of ketchup4-5 onions, chopped1 1/2 Tbsp. chili powder2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce2 (15-oz.) cans of tomato sauce1 (19-oz.) bottle of mustard-based barbecue sauceSalt and pepper to taste Directions: Cook beef until brown; drain. Add the rest of the ingredients to the cooked ground beef, mix, and bring to a simmer. Serve immediately. Freezes well. Was this page helpful? Thanks for your feedback! Tell us why! Other Submit