Winnipeg Free Press (Newspaper) - February 02, 2015, Winnipeg, Manitoba
C M Y K PAGE A6
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S
T HE secret to a long and happy
marriage is finding activities
both of you enjoy doing together.
For instance, on Super Bowl Sunday,
my wife, She Who Must Not Be Named,
and I traditionally
spend time in
the kitchen whipping
up a huge
batch of chili
to bring to the
annual party at
our friends Kevin
and Charlene's
house.
It is difficult,
armed only
with words, to
describe how
intensely I love
a spicy bowl of
chili, but I will
try: I really love
a spicy bowl of
chili!
In contrast, my wife likes chili, but
it would be a stretch to say she L- OV-
E- S chili. I believe this is because
she comes from a sensitive culinary
group that, for the purposes of today's
column, we will refer to as " women."
Being a guy, I have had a long and
glorious relationship with this " bowl of
blessedness," as legendary American
cowboy, journalist and social commentator
Will Rogers famously dubbed chili.
When we were in our 20s, my buddies
and I would hold semi- regular
parties that, for reasons I cannot currently
recall, we called " chili buses,"
wherein we would create three different
kinds of chili: 1) Regular chili,
which would be illegal to serve to prisoners
under the Geneva Convention; 2)
Hot chili, which was like a small sun
going supernova on your tongue; and
3) Five- alarm chili, which was like the
acid that leaked out of that long- jawed
space monster in the movie Alien in
the sense it could eat through the hull
of a spaceship in a matter of seconds.
The important thing to remember
about chili is different cooks have
wildly different notions about what
should go into it, which can lead to the
sort of arguments that can test even
the strongest marital relationships.
If you can't comprehend how the
simple act of making chili can cause
two reasonably sane persons to want
to strangle one another, I think it is
safe to say you do not currently have a
spouse.
My wife and I disagree on every
aspect of chili - what type of meat
it should contain, whether that meat
should be ground or chunks, whether
vegetables should be thrown in the
pot and, of course, whether to include
beans. (" To bean or not to bean, that is
the question!")
But easily the most volatile issue revolves
around the addition of hot sauce.
In my wife's view, adding hot sauce to
anything is a culinary crime, whereas
I firmly believe people who oppose the
liberal application of hot sauce should
be taken outside and shot, or abandoned
on some remote tropical island.
To give you an idea where I am
coming from, my chili bible is a book
called Chili Madness , written by Jane
Butel, that features fiery feasts such
as Chain Gang Chili, and Buzzard's
Breath Chili, the original recipe for
which included such delicious ingredients
as " dead cow meat, dried red ants,
and cigar ashes."
Fortunately, over the years, my wife
and I have developed a fail- safe system
that allows us to produce a batch of
this comforting food while preserving
our sacred bond.
Under this system, my wife is
responsible for minor duties, such as
cutting up the peppers and onions,
cooking the meat, adding tomatoes and
spices to the pot, then repeatedly stirring
the chili for several hours.
I have the critical role of lying on the
couch and pretending to sleep until,
when I am pretty sure my wife is no
longer paying attention, sneaking into
the kitchen and dousing the chili with a
manly jolt of hot sauce, such as Dave's
Insanity Sauce, which is capable of
stripping asphalt from your driveway.
You probably think my part in this
process is a piece of cake, which is
because, and I mean this in the best
way possible, you are an idiot.
" Where are you going?" my wife will
grunt as I slip off the couch.
" Um, nowhere," I will innocently
reply, because, as a crusading journalist,
I have to survive by my wits.
" DO NOT ADD HOT SAUCE TO THE
( BAD WORD) CHILI!!!" my wife will
roar at the decibel level you would use if
you were speaking to a potted plant.
Which is when I will stomp off indignantly,
march into the bathroom and
flush the toilet, hoping it will cover the
sound of me sneaking into the kitchen
and rooting around in the fridge for
the hot sauce.
So there we were Sunday night,
engrossed in Super Bowl XLIX and
reaffirming our bonds of friendship,
when the time came to tuck into heaping
helpings of our lovingly prepared chili. I
tried to avert my eyes as my wife took a
mouthful, and steam began to leak out of
her ears and her eyes began to bug out
of their sockets.
" WHAT DID YOU PUT IN THIS?"
she croaked, grabbing my beer and
pouring it over her now- smoking tongue.
I gave her my most sincerely adoring
look. " Just a little extra love, dear,"
I said. Because, in the end, that's the
secret ingredient in a long and happy
marriage.
doug. speirs@ freepress. mb. ca
There is no such thing
as a good bowl of mild chili
In the
Doug
House
Doug Speirs
SCOTT MCINTYRE / THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
The Patriots' second TD Sunday, or an imitation of Doug's reaction to his bowl
of chili? You decide. GO HOT
or go home
A_ 06_ Feb- 02- 15_ FP_ 01. indd A6 2/ 1/ 15 9: 55: 01 PM
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