Judging the ZestFest Fiery Food challenge in Fort Worth is a hot assignment

by Teresa Gubbins

FORT WORTH — Brandon Tatarevich, 26, carefully dips his plastic spoon into a cup of deep-red barbecue sauce, then lifts it to his lips. He pauses, bracing for the unknown. Will it be a slow burn that merely warms his tongue? Or will it set the inside of his mouth on fire?

Tatarevich is one of approximately 100 judges at the Fiery Food challenge, one part of ZestFest, an annual chili confab held at Will Rogers Auditorium, hosted by Chile Pepper magazine. The festival runs from September 5 through 7. But for three days before that, Tatarevich and his fellow judges convene in a raucous banquet room at Bonnell's Fine Texas Cuisine west of downtown Fort Worth where they subject themselves to scorching salsas, sizzling hot sauces, and scalding pickled okras.

Drops of sweat roll down their temples. Swigs of iced tea offer only temporary relief.

When it's over, they'll have weeded through approximately 500 entries to find the best fiery food and winner of the Golden Chile award, announced at a banquet dinner/awards ceremony on Friday September 5.

Chile Pepper started ZestFest seven years ago as a way to rally chili-heads. The weekend-long event is expected to attract 13,000 to 15,000 attendees who'll visit more than 100 booths offering samples, items for sale, and cooking demonstrations.

Judging takes place the week before the festival, and for some judges it's a tradition to be anticipated and revered. Steve Schulman, 41, a coworker of Tatarevich's, has been judging for four years and saves up vacation time so he can judge every day.

Judges run from professionals such as "Cowboy Chef" Terry Chandler, owner of Fred's Texas Cafe, and produce guru Tom Spicer, owner of Spiceman's F.M. 1410, to 79-year-old retiree Wana Fitter, who's judging for the first time. Spunky hostess Sang Funches delivers trays of styrofoam cups holding the fiery potions which are evaluated on factors such as appearance, aroma, texture, flavor, and heat.

With more than 50 items to taste in three hours, it's a snap-judgment deal -- hot or not? Given the volume of sauces and jellies sampled, the mid-range candidates are chucked pretty quickly, with only a tiny proportion of serious contenders rising to the top.

"That's the first good one we've had today," pronounces Chandler who, with his refined palate, can instantly identify ingredients such as tamarind and cumin. One with a tropical-fruit profile sends him and Spicer into a reverie.

"Wouldn't that be great on some pork?" Spicer asks.

"On the grill," Chandler answers.

One salsa with an unpleasantly chunky-watery texture and bland flavor immediately turns off the entire table.

"It looks like what came up after a Saturday night of drinking and Taco Bell," quips Chandler.

Sweet items such as chocolates and soft caramel imbued with a dose of heat provoke an appreciative murmur. But uh-oh, there's discord surrounding the pickled carrot. While veteran Steve smacks his lips appreciatively over the warm, tender stalk, Wana grumbles that it doesn't taste enough like a carrot.

Eventually, a fatigue sets in that can't be offset by the palate-clearing crackers and cubes of cheese. When Sang announces the final salsa, the table issues a subtle sigh of relief. Scores are marked; judges push back their chairs. Spicer, who has an event to cater in two hours, begins to collect his belongings.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" asks Schulman, who gets a dreamy look in his eye. "It's the day we judge the meats, with the rubs. It's the BEST."