The first meal I ever made for Rob was before we were dating. I was having a movie night and made a big pot of chili. It was my first experience with chili, so I spent a lot of time fussing over it. I'd add spice, stir, taste, add a little more... When it was just right, I put the pot in the fridge. I'd made it in the morning, and the party was late afternoon.
No one ever told me the awesome power of steeping chilis. In four short hours, that chili went from "just right" to "nuclear fusion." Even the most stout-hearted of taste buds survived only after a liberal amount of cheese, crackers and milk. It made culinary history, along with the Gravy That Stood On Its Own and the Turkey That Set The Oven Afire.
This weekend, my daughter had her Confirmation retreat. I agreed to make chili for the kids. I've become quite a pro at it, and usually make it mild in deference to my kids. I thought, "These are teens, so I'll spice it a bit." I tasted, added, tasted, added...
And stopped. I remembered the chili of 1989.
What I didn't remember was that I was supposed to make chili for Saturday, not Friday. So I had to take the pot back home and stick it in the fridge, where it steeped and chili juice seeped for 24 hours.
Yes, The Chili of 1989 Lives Again!
Fortunately, someone else made mild chili, so they mixed it. It gave them a few laughs--and me, too--and we brought the leftovers home. Where they are steeping in the fridge.
My youngest, the spicy daredevil, wants some for lunch. I have a gallon of Lactaid waiting.
5 comments:
It's not a good chili unless your tongue is in tatters afterward!
LOL. I have a dragon who agrees!
Maybe Mom should have made Chili more often as you grew up.
Not that MY chili ever steeps! Oh, well!!!!
LOL. I remember you and the hot peppers, Dad. Steam coming out your ears and you insisting that "they're ok."
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