My best friend Jenny asked me the other day what I would
like for her to bring to Paris for me next week when she arrives. My answer:
Fritos. Yes, that is my request. Why do I need Fritos? Because I have to make
Frito Pie! If you do not know what Frito Pie is…1. I feel bad for you and 2.
Don’t worry because I’m going to tell you what it is.
Today’s blog is all about chili. Not to be all
self-righteous but I am a near expert at chili. Let me tell you why… First of
all, I was born in Texas. Secondly, I have attended at least 15 years of the
Malibu Chili Cookoff. Thirdly, I spent my youth eating Frito Pies.
People get a little crazy about their chili. Everyone has
their own secret chili recipe that they all think is the best. I understand…
Chili is personal. Everyone has their own idea, preference, rules about which meat
to use (if any), which spice is best, beans or no beans, tomatoes or no
tomatoes, what kind of accoutrements etc. There are even arguments about the
origins of chili … Is it Mexican, Spanish or Texan. The only aspect I can see
that chili lovers agree on is that chili needs patience and love allowing the
flavors to meld and become rich.
If you are not doing a Frito pie, don’t forget to make
cornbread with salted honey butter. Making chili in Paris is not a walk in the
park. Trying to find a packet of chili seasoning powder, cheddar cheese or sour
cream ain’t easy. Luckily, my friend Elizabeth sent me a whole care package of
chili seasoning powder.
Side note: you may know my friend Elizabeth as La
Contessa. My friend RJ calls her “All CAPS Contessa” as she distinguishes her
writing with perfectly placed capitalization that I love. I have to tell you,
this woman is quite remarkable. She is quirky, kind, generous, loving,
interesting, forthcoming, a true friend, and is an absolutely magically unique
woman. She has a charming blog that you all should check out: www.vintagehenhouse.com
Okay, let’s start with some secrets to a superb chili
from the experts…
Have a rich, complex chili flavor that combines sweet,
bitter, hot, fresh, and fruity elements in balance.
Don’t rush your chili. The best chili is cooked all day
over a low heat.
Don’t use ground beef. Go the extra mile and use a bone-in
Chuck roast, cooking it for hours like a pot roast, cut it up and add to the
chili.
Sear your onions over high heat quickly to achieve a
caramelization effect.
Use an assortment of chilies… Mild, hot, fresh and diced
Add pork fat for flavor.
Add a bit of stout beer or dark ale.
Add a bit of dark chocolate or Aztec cocoa.
Add a shot of coffee.
Use a combination of chopped tomatoes, tomato sauce and
tomato paste.
Ready for some recipes? Here we go…
One Pot Cheesy Turkey Taco
Chili Mac via skinnytaste.com. Recipe HERE.
Chuck wagon chili via Emeril Legasse.
Recipe HERE.
Voilà! Chili… Mastered.
*Something you don’t know about me? I decided I’m going to
attempt to become a stoner. I texted Gracie and said, “Mommy is going to become
a stoner.” Gracie responded, “It’s about time.” Previously, and by previously I
mean last week, I was opposed to the use of marijuana. My problems in the past
with pot are the following… Primarily, it makes you a retard. I have seen this
firsthand. All of my friends who smoke pot on a regular basis are… Slow and
have arrested development. It’s the truth. Secondly, I am afraid that if I
smoke pot I will freak out and have to go to the hospital. Remember, I am the
girl who is afraid of aspirin and Band-Aids. Now, I have changed my mind. In my
fifth year of ALS I don’t give a shit anymore. So what if I become a retard. It’s
not as if I’m trying to get a job or impress anybody. I can be as stupid as I want.
No matter how much pot I smoke, I will still be smarter than everyone on Fox
News combined. So what if I have to go to the hospital? I’ve been to the
hospital so many times in the past five years that it hardly even fazes me
anymore. Let me state for the record though that if Gracie ever even considered
smoking pot, I would slaughter her.
When I was growing up in Malibu through junior high and
high school the main pastimes were going to the beach, listening to reggae
music, eating burritos and smoking pot. It was Malibu for God sake. I did all
of that except the smoking pot. I know I don’t seem like the type of girl who
listens to reggae music, but I am. I have been to so many Reggae Sunsplash
festivals, I’ve lost count. I have been front row at a Jimmy Cliff concert and
I wanted to marry Ziggy Marley when I was in high school. Black Uhuru, Steel Pulse,
Peter Tosh… Loved all of it. But then I grew up and moved on. Now, I think it’s
time I got back to my roots. Yep, I’m going to start smoking pot in Paris, sing
karaoke reggae, eat take-out Chipotle burritos, drink a green juice and for
your enjoyment I am going to strap a GoPro camera to my forehead to document
the whole thing. This should be fun. I’m not guaranteeing that I’m going to be
a successful stoner, but I’m going to give it a good shot.
Let me
explain my reasoning for becoming a stoner. ALS is a nerve disease. My nerves
are shot, they are probably dead, they are exhausted, they are stressed and
they have quite literally just given up. For my entire life, I have been a Type
A personality. Here’s a quick description of someone with a type A personality:
The theory describes "Type A" individuals as
ambitious, rigidly organized, sensitive, impatient, take on more than they can
handle, want other people to get to the point, anxious, proactive, and
concerned with time management. People with Type A personalities are often
high-achieving "workaholics" who multi-task, push themselves with deadlines,
and hate both delays and ambivalence. Behavior is expressed in three major
symptoms: (1) free-floating hostility, which can be triggered by even minor
incidents; (2) time urgency and impatience, which causes irritation and exasperation
usually described as being "short-fused"; and (3) a competitive drive
which causes stress and an achievement-driven mentality.
This describes me to a T. Can you imagine my exhaustion
from living like this for 44 years! So, you have to think, “This girl needs to
smoke some pot, tout de suite!” I’m going to invite a few friends over to join
me but I can’t tell you who because they have a reputation to protect. I don’t.
My reputation was lost years ago when I fell out of that taxicab on Fifth
Avenue and landed face down into the gutter. So, wish me luck and stay tuned…
