Tonight I made chili for the first time in my life. Chili is one of those things that seeps down deep in your soul. I can never pass it up, if I see it on a menu. I have fond memories of cracking open a can of Stagg chili when I was a kid, but I have since graduated to ever-soaring heights of flavor with all the fancy-like chilis to be found in diners, cafes, and the like.
But I really wanted to be able to wield this kind of power myself. I want the freedom of having chili whenever and however I please.
I love chili so much, that I refrained from eating it tonight (except for many taste tests to make sure it was coming together). Instead, I'm letting it sit overnight in my fridge, to let the flavors meld together in that magical way stews have of tasting even better the next day. It's hard, though, not to fantasize about spooning up a bowlful tomorrow evening, topped with shredded cheddar (aged 3 years!) and diced onion, and with a fat square of fresh buttered cornbread to go with it.
I can't wait! Pictures forthcoming.