These 5 places serve the best chili in the San Fernando Valley

I have no idea where the lists of days honoring some manner of food come from. The lists are long, with nary a day passing without some chow being celebrated. Just this month, for instance, we have Pork Rind Appreciation Day (Feb. 13), National Chocolate Mint Day (Feb. 19), National Banana Bread Day (Feb. 23) and National Clam Chowder Day (Feb. 25).

Are any of them worthy of a whole day of celebration? Maybe…maybe not. But decidedly, Feb. 24 is a day when there should be parades, speeches and even fireworks because it’s National Chili Day. And it would be hard to find any dish more American than chili — and that includes the hamburger, the hot dog and even the Twinkie.

Chili scholars tell us the first written mention of chili was in 1529, in the writings of the Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún, in which he speaks of a stew beloved in the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. The Spanish colonizers added beef to the stew, turning it into chili con carne.

By the 1850s, recipes existed, using dried beef and suet, which was dehydrated for soldiers to carry on campaigns. Over the years, chili became the defining dish of San Antonio, Texas, where it was sold by women known as “chili queens.” At the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago, it was sold from the San Antonio Chili Stand, turning it into a national phenomenon.

In time, the chili parlors of Texas spread from coast to coast; the oldest restaurant in Tennessee is a chili parlor. And, not surprisingly, American variations on chili have materialized. Cincinnati chili is served over spaghetti; you can find it hereabouts at Chili John’s in Burbank, which was actually born in Green Bay, Wisconsin, in 1913. And there are countless fast-food joints that offer chili over a hot dog; the most famous locally is Pink’s in Hollywood, which was born in 1939 as a pushcart.

And then, there’s the remarkable world of chili cook-offs, the most famous of which is the massive event held the first Saturday in November in the ghost town of Terlingua, Texas, which regularly attracts 10,000 chiliheads. It’s an event which puts the chili love of the judges to the test, because consuming dozens of chili samples over a weekend can have a terrible effect on the digestive tract. And I should know.

Though I’ve never been a judge in Terlingua, I have judged numerous local cook-offs. The chili can be frightening. I remember a pot o’ red that had animal hair and skin floating on the top — Roadkill Chili? Another pot had been thickened with so much white rice it had turned from a liquid into a solid. The event had a Last Meal quality to it.

Oddly, for a dish that’s so famous, and infamous as well, there’s no single recipe for chili. Is it made with tomatoes, or not? With beans, or not? Is white chili (with chicken or turkey) actually chili? How about chili verde? Or vegetarian chili? There are as many recipes for chili as there are chiliheads making a pot o’ red! (Or not red!)

As you might expect, our local chefs have done things strange and wonderful with chili; the city that invented the California Roll isn’t about to just serve chili in a bowl with crackers. Hereabouts, as with just about everything else, chili can take some unexpected, and even zany twists.

Come along as we explore the local world of chili — from traditional to utterly outlandish and outré. The ancient Aztecs would be astounded by what they’ve wrought.

Loaded chili-cheese fries

Blue Dog Beer Tavern, 4524 Saugus Ave., Sherman Oaks; 818-990-2583, www.bluedogbeertav.com

Sometimes, a man just wants a beer — a nice cold one, suds, a brewski, something to wet the old whistle. Which is fine; there are plenty of places around where you can get a beer. But what they offer at Blue Dog Beer Tavern goes well beyond the sort of six-pack most of us know from our misspent youths.

As down-home and even funky the tavern might be, this is a destination for the connoisseur of beer. The sort of beer drinker who spends time mulling over the inner meaning of his (or her) frosty mug of happiness. You do not go to Blue Dog for a Bud Light; Bud Light ain’t on the menu.

There are actually several beer menus at Blue Dog. There’s a menu of “Permanent Bottles & Cans.” There’s a menu of “Permanent Tap Beers.” There’s a menu of “Rotating Bottles & Cans.” This cheerful “little tavern” (as Blue Dog refers to itself on the beer menu) claims to have offered “over 1,200 different brews” since opening in 2009, “as our commitment to total beer excellence.”

Those beers are broken down into some fairly whimsical categories that make me think the owners are “Star Trek” and “Star Wars” fans. There’s “Light Speed,” “All Galaxy” and “The Dark Side,” along with “Cali-Favorites” and a section of beers from Weihenstephaner, “the oldest brewery in the world, est. 1070 A.D…”

Speaking of industrial strength, though there are certainly salads on the menu, and very substantial salads at that, the dishes that properly define the cuisine at Blue Dog are built around substantial quantities of cheese; this may be the most cheese-intensive menu in town.

You like fries? They’ve got you covered. Aside from garlic fries, and garlic-parmesan fries, there are Shore Fries (with jalapeño cheese sauce), chili-cheese fries, loaded chili-cheese fries, Irish Fries (with bacon, sour cream and cheese sauce), pulled pork fries (with cheddar and spicy sour cream), nacho fries — and a creation for four to six hungry sorts called The Works, with pretty much everything on it.

There’s a spicy mac and cheese, and cheesesteak nachos. And then, there are the burgers, 12 in all, each heavily cheese-based — except for The Saugus, which is the house vegan burger. And I think you can request cheese as an add-on if you want. Bacon too, which might do wonders for a vegan burger.

The Good Karma Burgers comes with not one, but TWO layers of cheddar. This is cheerful overkill — but the right food for the beer.

Brisket and tri-tip chili

Boneyard Bistro, 13539 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks; 818-906-7427, www.boneyardbistro.com

On the one hand, Boneyard Bistro is a very good classic barbecue shop — serving hickory smoked pork ribs, Santa Maria red oak grilled beef ribs, pulled pork and pulled chicken. But on the other hand, “Bistro” is not simply a bit of useful alliteration. Though this is an “American bistro” and not a French one. Not much more than just a little bit.

That little bit is found in the pan-roasted petit filet mignon with foie gras and haricot vert, blue cheese risotto and a blackberry-balsamic reduction — a big chunk of which sounds properly Gallic. Ditto the roasted garlic gastrique served with the oak-grilled New York strip. And the shaved fennel, crispy shallots and tarragon vinaigrette with the Bibb lettuce salad. And let’s not forget the miso glazed bone marrow with toast. The miso is Japanese, but the consumption of bone marrow is very French.

From there on, the “bistro” side of the menu runs happily amuck, with bacon as an underlying theme. There’s bacon in the hickory smoked deviled eggs, further flavored with smoked jalapeños and Sriracha — a dish that can’t be resisted.

There’s a small mountain of bacon in the immodestly named Boneyard’s Famous House Cured & Double Hickory Smoked Bacon Building Blocks. There’s bacon in the cornmeal crusted okra poppers — along with cheddar and cream cheese, and Cajun ranch dressing. And, of course, there’s bacon on the Wedge iceberg lettuce salad. And on most of the burgers. Believe me, I’m not complaining.

This is an easy place to be in. On busy nights though, it’s not an easy place to get into — reservations are essential, and they fill up fast. But once in, really, no worries. The service is smart, witty, well-informed and very efficient. The servers seem to know what you want before you do. They can tell if you’re an ahi poke spring roll type of table, or a chile relleno with braised beef cheeks and cherry mole type of table.

My table was down with the smoked chipotle Buffalo wings, served with a very chunky blue cheese dressing — and a couple of orders of the brisket and tri-tip chili, layered with cheddar cheese and sour cream. The appetizer is big enough to be a small entrée. Indeed, big and filling is another definer here. They make doughnuts packed with Kobe beef chile and cheddar cheese.

The mac and cheese isn’t just mac and cheese — it’s fried mac and cheese. Which may be gilding the lily, but then lilies look so much better gilded now, don’t they? There’s a salad made with fried green tomatoes, okra, Stilton blue and Green Goddess dressing; and another with smoked chicken, quinoa, kale and ricotta — which is pretty darned madcap.

Buffalo chili omelet

Horseless Carriage, Galpin Ford, 15505 Roscoe Blvd., North Hills; 818-351-5027, www.galpin.com/horselesscarriage

Amazing as it may seem, the Horseless Carriage in North Hills opened in 1966 as the “first in-dealership restaurant” in America — which is to say, it’s attached at the hip to the sprawling Galpin Ford facility. Get a burger, buy a car…makes sense to me.

But what’s funny, and no doubt unexpected all those years ago was the notion that the Horseless Carriage would take on a life of its own, as a destination for locals, just off the 405’s Roscoe exit. Though there are certainly car buyers eating there, most of the crowd looks like families who opted for some tasty, down-home American cooking, served in a setting that looks as if it’s still (more or less) 1966. This is retro dining, and very enjoyable retro dining at that.

The restaurant’s website tells us they “bake an average of 234,680 cookies a year!” We also discover that there’s the “first ever full-service Starbucks in a dealership at Galpin…enjoy a relaxing Starbucks drink while you shop for, or service your car…” Since there’s not much else nearby, why not?

Breakfast, which is served all day, runs to pancakes, waffles, French toast and egg dishes — and more egg dishes — from the ubiquitous two eggs any style served with a choice of proteins, with toast or an English muffin, and with fried spuds topped with sour cream and scallions, through a half-dozen three-egg omelets, one made with buffalo chili, another with a spicy Louisiana sausage. You can mix and match, and build your own omelet as well.

This is the sort of deeply American eatery where a pair of poached eggs over spinach topped with melted cheese is listed under “Healthy Side.” I guess the spinach does it. (Bagels, cream cheese and lox are listed under “Gourmet Breakfasts.” Lobster and eggs, yes; bagels and lox, not so much.)

And for desert, there’s strawberry shortcake, hot fudge sundae, Jell-O with whipped cream, tapioca pudding and more. The wine list consists of “glass of wine.” Truly, 1966 lives at Galpin.

Big Fat Fatty Sandwich

Fat Sal’s, 16901 Ventura Blvd., Encino; 855-682-4373, www.fatsalsdeli.com

At Fat Sal’s, more is more, and even more is better. This is a tribute to excess, a restaurant (with several other branches around town) that declares it’s over-the-top madness in its name, and its slogan, “We’re Makin’ Sandwiches Over Here.” And, yes they are.

This is not food for dieters, teetotalers or the mild of spirit. This is food for livin’ large. Let us begin with the Big Sandwich, the Grand Gesture, the Monster. It’s called the Big Fat Fatty. (There is no linguistic PC here!) It costs $49.99. It contains cheesesteak, cheeseburgers, pastrami, chicken fingers, bacon, mozzarella sticks, fried eggs, french fries, onion rings, chili, marinara sauce and “Fat Sauce” on a 27-inch garlic hero.

It’s not available for delivery. It exists, oddly, only for a food challenge — if one Fatty Fan can eat the whole thing in 40 minutes, they get it for free, and a get a sandwich of their own design, which they can name. And dream of while they digest. For a long time.

More simple souls can go for the basic sandwiches — none of which are especially basic. The Fat Sal, for instance, is packed with roast beef, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fries, brown gravy and mayo. The Fat Jaime involves grilled ham, chicken fingers, grilled jalapeños, grilled onions, mozzarella, avocado, lettuce, tomato, fries, mayo and Tapatio sauce.

The inclusion of deep-fried side orders on the sandwich is not new. But it’s been taken to a new level of madness at Fat Sal’s. It makes a fat sandwich that much fatter.

A word needs to be said about the Fat Fries, which are served in an aluminum pan, and look for all the world like nachos on steroids, or maybe a demonic notion of a casserole. There are nine of them — the Stromboli Fries, which are typical of the breed, are topped with ham, pepperoni, salami, provolone and mozzarella and marinara. Add it to one of the Fat Sandwiches, and you may just barely survive.

For the record, there are three salads — tuna, chicken Caesar and veggie. The veggie comes with fries. Of course it does.

The Original

Chili John’s, 2018 W. Burbank Blvd., Burbank; 818-846-3611, www.chilijohnsofca.com

A local legend, with a history that dates back to the turn of the century in Green Bay, Wisconsin, this corner shack (“Take Some Home” says the sign in front) has been frying the insides of local chili-ites since 1945.

The chili at Chili John’s is cooked for 24 hours, then served at a U-shaped counter accessorized with oyster crackers, peppers, onions, vinegar, Tabasco. The options are mild or hot, in a bowl or over spaghetti, on a tamale or a burger. The quality is exceptional, the price too low to mention. At lunchtime, the counter is jammed with the hungry from the nearby studios — crew guys know their chili.

Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.