Not so Chilly
April 7, 2005
The weather is starting to warm up and winter is just about ready to bid us adieu. Before it left us for another year, however, I ventured on a downhill skiing holiday with some friends. (I say “ventured” because the last time I had skis strapped to my feet was on a Grade 10 ski trip, twenty years ago.) Once in the Rockie Mountains of British Columbia, you’d never know that winter was almost over. We had beautiful skiing conditions and were even able to enjoy fresh snow, making “first tracks” on the hills in the mornings.
Many people will tell you that ski holidays are not so much about the skiing, but about the après ski hours. Me? I was so exhausted after my first day of skiing in twenty years that I could hardly speak, let alone enjoy a few drinks and laughs with my friends. Yet, I did manage to make dinner. That first night, we enjoyed a simple roast chicken dinner with herbed new potatoes, and green beans, with chocolate Easter eggs to finish it off.
We had ordered groceries for the week ahead of time. This proved to be a bigger challenge to me than I had expected. For some reason, buying (or ordering) food that far in advance taxed my brain. I’m used to buying food today for tonight and thinking about tomorrow’s meals tomorrow when I’m better able to decide what I will want to eat. Still, I did my best. When we first saw the food that had been delivered to the condominium, our mouths dropped. It seemed our grocery shopper had doubled up on a few things, like orange juice, oranges, Kaiser rolls, onions, and carrots. In the end, the quantity of food was quite accurate and we polished most of it off. We forced orange juice and oranges on each other every morning, scoring points when we consumed more than our allotment; carrots were glazed for dinners and I think we broke records for carrot sticks eaten in one week; the Kaiser rolls became croutons; and the onions…well, we left most of the onions there.
The best idea I had all week was to do tomorrow’s mise en place each night while dinner cooked. This made the entire cooking process so easy, and made each evening’s meal land on the table a little sooner than it would have otherwise. I’ve always told students that being prepared to cook, with a completed mise en place, makes the cooking process so much more enjoyable. This week, I practiced what I preach, a novel occurrence, and proved myself right.
By far, the favourite meal of the week - the one that was enjoyed twice - was a Turkey and White Bean Chili. I like chili - all kinds of chili. Now, many chili aficionados would consider this a blasphemous statement. How is it possible to like all kinds of chili? H. Allen Smith, who claims to know more about chili than anyone else (rather an extreme claim) says that “the chief ingredients of all chili are fiery envy, scalding jealousy, scorching contempt and sizzling scorn” and that “the quarreling that has gone on for generations over New England clam chowder versus Manhattan clam chowder … is but a minor spat alongside the raging feuds that have arisen out of chili recipes.” This certainly is true. Telling a chili cook that all chilies are the same is like saying that Americans and Canadians are the same. (If you have trouble telling Americans and Canadians apart, say that to a Canadian.)
We could go on and on about what makes a chili a chili. What chilies have to be in a chili? Is it better to use ground or hand cut meat? Should tomatoes be added or not? Do beans belong in chili, and if so, which type? There are even huge debates on how to spell chili. Some prefer “chile” or “chilli”. Chili experts can really get worked up about it all.
When it comes right down to it, however, does it really matter? If you like the meal, then you like the meal, no? If it brings pleasure, whether it is made with strips of pork, no tomatoes and lima beans, then so be it. I think it is fantastic that there can be so many different variations on one dish. It speaks to the passion that is stirred by this concoction of meats, peppers, beans and other ingredients, combined with chili powder. The “chili” that I made on the ski trip did not start chili debates. It did not cause voices or fists to be raised. I was not told that my chili “would pollute the waters of the Great Salt Lake”, that it “should be eaten through a straw”, nor that it “could be molded into balls and used to hold down tent flaps in a high wind”. No, it was just enjoyed the way it was, with ground turkey (God forbid!), chickpeas and white beans (gasp!), and no tomatoes (say it isn’t so!), topped with some Cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream (shock and horror!). It did have cumin seed and chili powder, however. If you’re of the belief that what I made can’t be called “chili”, well, just call it “Turkey and White Bean Stew”, or “Turkey and White Bean Not-So-Chili”.