The Only Green Chili You’ll Ever Crave

I still remember the first time I made this Colorado Pork Green Chili. My smoke alarm went off midway (again). And my dog looked at me like I was summoning ghosts—probably because I was cursing up a blue streak while chopping onions too fast. But let me tell you, that first steaming bowl with a blizzard swirling outside? Total magic. If you’ve never tried chili with a kick of tart tomatillos and that unmistakable roasted pepper vibe, oh buddy, you are in for it. And no, I don’t just mean heartburn, though I’ve made it that spicy by accident before. Fair warning.

Why You’ll Want a Second Bowl (Or Third…)

I make this when I’m craving something hearty but not quite as heavy as Texas-style chili. My family goes bonkers for this after a ski weekend (it’s apparently the only thing my cousin claims thaws his toes out). Sometimes I even use it to clean out the fridge—leftover pork roast? In it goes. If you have little ones, you can tone down the heat—all you have to do is glare menacingly at the jalapeños instead of tossing them in. Last week, I tried to skip searing the pork; thought I’d save some minutes…but, nah, the flavor really does need that caramelized thing.

What You’ll Need (and a Few Honest Swaps)

2 pounds pork shoulder, cut into bite-sized cubes (Sometimes I’ve used pork loin—totally fine for less fatty, but maybe a bit drier. I still eat it, though.)
Salt and pepper, just to taste but don’t go wild at the start
2 tablespoons vegetable oil (my grandma swears by lard; me…I just use whatever’s handy, but oil’s less messy for me)
1 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced (usually I do 5 because I lose count by the third clove)
1 or 2 jalapeños, diced—more if you’re brave, none if you’re a wimp (I won’t judge—for long)
2 cans (4 ounces each) diced Hatch green chiles, or roast 3-4 fresh Anaheim or Hatch chiles if you can get ’em (I occasionally just use those little cans of Old El Paso…shhh, don’t tell Colorado purists)
1 pound tomatillos, husked and chopped (I once used green salsa instead…doesn’t quite work the same but will do in a pinch)
1 big can (14 oz) diced tomatoes—even fire roasted ones are fun if you find ’em
2 teaspoons cumin (I eyeball this, honestly)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
3 cups chicken broth—sometimes I use bouillon dissolved in hot water, because who actually plans ahead?
1 potato, peeled and diced small (makes things thicker—leave it out if you don’t care)
Handful of chopped cilantro and juice of a lime for serving (if you like zing)

Here’s How You Get It All Together

Heat the oil in a heavy pot (Dutch oven or something with sides). Dump in your pork cubes, season with salt and pepper, brown ’em real good. This is where I usually sneak a taste, though, yeah, maybe not the raw pork, but you get me.
Pull the pork out for a minute. Add your onion, garlic, and jalapeño (your nose should tingle). Scrape up any bits hanging out on the bottom—those are flavor gold.
Toss the pork back in. Add your green chiles, tomatillos, tomatoes, cumin, oregano, then that magical potato. Pour in the broth. Stir. It might look like a greenish swamp right now. Don’t stress—it always does.
Bring it up to a good simmer, then knock the heat back. Cover and let it burble gently for…well, anywhere from 1.5 hours to 2. Honestly, once the pork tries to fall apart when you poke it, you’re close. Stir every now and then so nothing glues itself to the bottom.
If you want it thicker, smash some potato cubes against the side of the pot. Magic.
Taste, add more salt, or a dash of hot sauce, or—actually, I find it works better if you add the lime juice at the end. Stir in cilantro. Ladle into bowls, making sure to scoop up some good stuff every time—uneven bowls mean family feuds.

Notes I Wish Someone Had Told Me

I burnt this once by cranking up the heat and leaving the room. Don’t. Medium-low is your friend; patience gets you tender pork.
If you don’t have tomatillos, a splash of green salsa works almost as well (it’s not authentic, but heck, not everyone lives near a Hispanic market).
If you have leftovers, it honestly tastes richer on day two. Or, well, that’s what I tell myself in the rare cases there are leftovers.

Stuff I’ve Tried (Some Worked, Some…Not So Much)

I tried adding corn once. My family asked, “Is this chili with a surprise or a weird soup?” I wouldn’t bother doing it again.
I’ve swapped pork for leftover rotisserie chicken. Not bad, just…not the same soul, you know?
Skipping the potato makes it thinner, so if you like it almost stew-like, keep the spud in.

Got the Right Gear? But You Don’t Need Fancy Stuff

Dutch oven or any big soup pot—if you don’t have that, use your trusty deep frying pan and pretend it’s fine (it mostly is).
Cutting board and a sharp knife. Honestly, I use dull ones too often—watch your fingers, okay?

How to Store (or, If We’re Being Honest, Not)

Pop your leftover chili in a container with a lid and stash it in the fridge—it should keep for up to 3 days. But in my house, it never lasts more than a day. If you do manage to forget about it, the flavor does get deeper overnight. You can freeze it, too, but defrost it gently. Microwave if you must, but stovetop wins for texture.

How We Serve It Around Here

My favorite way: a big bowl, lots of shredded cheese on top, a dollop of sour cream, and tortilla chips for dunking (or scooping, depending on your mood). My cousin puts it on hash browns—says it’s a Rocky Mountain thing, but I’m not convinced. Great with flour tortillas too, rolled up and dunked straight in.

Pro Tips Nobody Warned Me About

I once tried rushing the browning step (kids yelling, dog barking, you know how it goes). Regretted it because the pork was tasty, but missing that crispy edge that makes a huge difference. Don’t be me in that moment.
Wear gloves if handling hot peppers. Trust me. I learned the hard way during allergy season—don’t touch your nose, it’s a trap!

FAQ – Yep, You’ve Asked…

What if I can’t find Hatch chiles?: Oh, you’re not alone. I just use canned or Anaheim chiles. It’s not the same, but it’s still chili, promise. Sometimes you can order Hatch chiles roasted online, like at Hatch Green Chile.
Can I make this in a slow cooker?: Absolutely. Brown everything first, if you can (do it right in a pan), then dump into your slow cooker and let it go low for 6-ish hours. It’ll be falling-apart-tender and people will think you worked way harder than you did.
Can I skip the potato?: Sure thing. I do that sometimes if I’m out, it’ll just be a smidge thinner. Maybe serve with thicker bread to mop up your bowl. Or not. Up to you!
What if it’s too spicy?: Add more broth, a spoonful of sour cream, or just tell everyone you meant it that way. Actually, a splash of cream at the end can really mellow it out.
Is pork shoulder really best?: Yeah, I think so. You want the fat to keep it juicy. Pork loin is fine—but just a teensy bit less exciting. (That said, cost is cost. Use what you’ve got; it’ll still hit the spot.)
Where can I get more green chili recipes?: Oh—try Simply Recipes’ Green Chile and New Mexico’s Green Chile Collection. Sometimes I riff off theirs, too!

So there you go. Pull up a chair, grab a spoon, and don’t forget to pass the tortilla chips around. If it snows tomorrow, well, you know what I’ll be cooking up again.