There are three basic maxims to follow when you’re cooking chili. Number one: make sure it is not hot outside. Number two: make sure you have all the ingredients. And Number three: make sure you’ve got a pot big enough to hold all of it. Well, I am proud to say that I am sitting here, typing, and enjoying a delicious homemade bowl of chili that I made, and I failed to follow all three of the above rules.
But why would you do such a stupid, dumbass thing, Carrie? Well, I’ll tell ya. Last week was a cold week here in Fort Payne. When it gets cold, I crave chili. One needs three things in Fall: cold, chili, and football. So, I had the cold, I had the football, I needed chili. Alas, due to my procrastination of other things, I didn’t have time to make it ’till this week. And this week, it has been warm. Just my luck. But I’m not gonna let ten degrees’ difference of heat stop me from makin’ my chili. To solve the problem, I just turned the thermostat down about five degrees, a simple action. First maxim solved.
Second problem wasn’t quite so easy; some ingredients missing from the pot can mean life or death for any chili, no matter what oddball recipe you’re using. Mine wasn’t that dire of an ingredient (or else I would not be eating yummy chili right now), but I’ve never made chili without it before. I was lacking tomato paste. I realized this before I left work, so it was my intention to swing by the Foodland (I don’t like to brave Wal-Mart after 5 pm), and pick up a can or two. Soon after walking into Foodland, however, I soon realized why it is that I shop at Wal-Mart, and not at this store. They had no freakin’ tomato paste! Not a single can. They didn’t even have any tomato sauce, which can be used in a pinch. Then, just ’cause I needed something to come out of my visit to this store, I try to find some of the canned cat food that Renton likes. Would you believe they didn’t have that either? Foodland. They should call it FoodDesert. Or Foods R Not Us. Or something like We Only Sell Batteries And Depends. Boogers upon them. So, still not wanting to go to Wal-Mart (it was Hell there yesterday, absolute Hell), I decide to wing it without the paste. I scrounged the pantry, looking for something tomatoey that thickens. Tomato soup? Why not, better than nothing. Better than a trip to Wal-Mart. Tomato soup it is. Now, I possessed all the ingredients I needed, more or less.
Breaking the third maxim was a bitch. Especially ’cause it jumped out from the empty cabinets and bit me on the ass; I was not expecting it to be a factor at all. I had a stockpot, once. I know I did, ’cause I have memories of cooking a chicken in it at Auburn, and storing all the paper birthday napkins that I collected over the years. I had a stockpot. Apparently it ran away and took my napkins with it; didn’t leave me a note or anything. Just imagine this picture: I’m in the kitchen, on the phone with my mom (using my cell phone, which doesn’t like to cradle all that well between my ear and shoulder), Renton is at my feet having a fit because I’m not paying attention to him 100%, I’ve got ground beef browning in a skillet, and I’m just finishing cutting up an onion into little tiny pieces. A multitasking Carrie; it is possible. I’m ready to mix up all the ingredients, everything’s coming together, I just need my huge pot. It’s at this point that I realize my pot is MIA. Oh bugger. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll rig up something,” Mom says. I’m so irritated at myself, but I am not giving up. I want my chili. Let’s see, skillets hold stuff, boilers hold stuff, let’s try using both! So now I was cooking two batches of chili, one in a skillet, and another in a boiler type pot thing. Double the fun. Double the stirring, the seasoning, the tasting, the reseasoning, the temperature adjusting, and even the mess cleaning. You name it, I doubled it. But I didn’t use a stockpot. I be a crafty Carrie.
So an hour and half a bottle of chili powder later, my creation of chili was ready, jerryrigged all the way. And it tasted fantastic. Probably not as good as I can usually make, and certainly not as good as my mom’s, but I made it, despite the obstacles in my path. Huzzah!
Now, a quick thought. Why in the world would I write so much about a stupid bowl of chili? ‘Cause, sadly enough, this was the most interesting part of my day. I suspects I need a bit more of a life.