Back when cowtown was indeed cowtown, the big managers of the packing house always came from Chicago. When I was about 10 the latest one invited my father and the family over for dinner. To make use feel at home his wife, as I see now, decided to serve chilli. When shown what I was going to be having for dinner I said the 10 year old equivalent of "What in the he** is this cr**. I am not eating this ...." I can still see that house's kitchen for some reason. Fortunately none of the imported from Chicago managers stayed long.