CHILI

Today is game day for the fellas, both foot and base-wise, if we're talking watching balls. It isn't a good week for our teams (the Lions are up, though! SUCK IT, PHILLY!), but the weather is starting its annual change, and when it gets chilly out, I start developing a craving for home-cooked chili. Something about the smell is very fall for me, like spiced apples and pumpkin pie, only without the festive connotations. 

I have holidays on the brain as of late, I must admit. My celebration season starts on Halloween, with store-bought candies pilfered from my daughter's pillowcase and caramel covered apples (if i can refrain from breaking into the bag of caramels first). Then there's the Day of the Dead, where I make sugar skulls for a traditional death altar and have a skull decorating party for the kid and her friends, complete with royal icing soaked in neon food coloring, feathers, googly eyes and an infinite amount of finely ground sprinkles. 

After that is Thanksgiving and my father's birthday. Each year we do trash can turkey outside, from the time Alice's restaurant comes on the local radio station until the Lions and the Cowboys kick off, the smell of charcoal-smoked meat increasing with our excitement as the hours go on. Then it's Yule, which is all about cookies, and New Years, which is appetizer nirvana, then Valentine's, which is terribly romantic. 

Even though we say each year we won't be observing it, our boycott resolves make it to about midday before running out for chocolate and strawberries and staples to make hand-rolled raviolis and cream sauce, served under candlelight with a glass of wine (okay, beer. It's never wine, not even in my fantasies). Gabe also has a birthday this month, requesting usually home-stacked spinach and beef lasagna with an oven-baked cheesecake, chilled overnight so he bites into a set, firm piece, creamy and covered in cherry pie filling. 

March is Mardi Gras and Julia's birthday, also spring break, so there's a ton of experimentation as the holiday season comes to a close. I enjoy being in the spirit of celebration for nearly half the year. The worst part of the year, if I'm being honest. I'd take any over none, but cold weather causes an inward retreat, and I love the environmental accessibility of summer. That and I slip less and am less afraid to make the drive into the city for classes. I have a Jeep, but that's not the point. 

There's a level of hyper-alertness, almost, in the colder months. As the temperature drops, the urge in me to find new recipes on food blogs I've yet to read, to buy a new cookbook while simultaneously sketching the layout of my own on the back of a recipe, itself scrawled hastily in sharpie on the back of an oversized index card designated for such hasty taste-based endeavors, rises inversely in instinctual compensation. "sniff...sniff...is getting cold...I MUST PREPARE AND PRESERVE THE FOODSTUFFS BEFORE I AM BURIED IN SNOW." I'm too dramatic. I live in St Louis, known for relatively mild-mannered winters, yet every year, my sole weather complaint is always:

"It is cold, and I am going to die". 

Anyways, chili. I had this recipe scrawled in the oversized sketchbook in my kitchen, the one i stick the rest of my successful attempts into. Like any soupy dish, chili is versatile, with a standard recipe that is surprisingly susceptible to personalization. A good chili takes a while to make, as any experienced cook will share, so start a pot in the afternoon if you want to eat it for dinner (I started mine around one and am eating it now at seven, but the cook time is predominantly preference, the general rule being "grab a bowl when you're hungry"). It's also one of those dishes that stinks up the whole house, infecting my relatives with CHILI MADNESS, so I usually make a beforehand snack to hold the family over. Pictured are beef little smokies wrapped in crescent rolls and baked for ten minutes for the easiest pigs-in-a-blanket ever. 

We all say we make the best chili. While I'll admit I've tried better recipes than that of my own hand, I continually tinker with a loose formula of ingredients, incorporating any recommendations I pick up from other chili connosseurs along the way (so please leave yours!), ending up with a better pot than the last every time, and enough leftovers to last through the week.

Game Day Chili

prep time: 10m   cook time: 2+ hours 

Ingredients

oil

an onion

garlic

lb ground beef

3/4 lb stew chunks

a can of beef broth

a bottle of dark beer

a cup of coffee

a large can of tomatoes

2 cans of tomato paste 

4 cans of beans

a can of corn

siracha

cumin 

cocoa

brown sugar

oregano

coriander

liquid smoke

dijon mustard

1. brown the onion and garlic in the oil.

2. add meat, brown

3. add the rest, stir

4. simmer until you're ready to eat (at least 2 hours for a nice, thich consistency)