Today I won the First Annual Chili Smackdown for our office, making me two for two in chili championships.
My Facebook friends from Lexington, Kentucky, may recall my first “Gold Cup” victory nearly 10 years ago. And my son’s friends will recognize the truth in the narrative of The Chili:
This chili was first concocted on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, but this is no skinny barefoot surfin’ chili. No, no, no. This chili was perfected in Steel City, where it laced up its storm trooper boots, nodded politely at the vegetarians, and muscled its way onto the palates and into the loyal affections of the mighty Hampton Talbots football team, nourishing the squad through an undefeated season in 2002, nursing its star defensive lineman through two knee surgeries, and mending at least one broken heart, whereupon the team (in reverent tones) dubbed it “The Chili.”
A strong-willed and impatient chili, it believes fiercely in diversity, as evidenced by the variety of meats and beans and complex spices that give The Chili its deep flavor. Full-bodied and opulent in the mouth, it yields rich notes of cumin, sandalwood, and brown sugar, with hints of dusty road and blues guitar that will have your taste buds partying like a freshman Congressman on Bourbon Street. Even though The Chili is aggressive and suffers no fools, all it wants is world peace, a Steelers victory—and for you to hug your grandma.
Just say the word, and I’ll cook it for you.