I don’t know if it’s the subconscious prodding of being part of Team Pepper, or if it’s the weather, but I had a craving yesterday for chili con carne. So while I was at the grocery store, I bought all the ingredients which are now simmering on my stove top, their mingled aromas wafting into my nostrils and teasing my growling tummy.
I don’t like cooking, as a rule, except when I’m making something that I can see coming together in stages. To me, making a pot of chili, or spaghetti sauce, or dish I call “slop” (which is basically all the veggies you’d put in spaghetti except without the tomato sauce but including chopped tomatoes, and chicken and rice with a dash or two of curry) is more like building a dinner than cooking it. To me it looks like life.
You start with the basic ingredient and it’s like a newly formed child. Add in the next, which may be language, and a sprinkling of different spices (which we all know are actually experiences) and before you know it, it’s turned into something entirely different, and yet the same.
And then you eat it! Which incidentally is where it stops being like a person… unless you’re into that… but we won’t go there, will we…?
Where was I? Oh yes, peppers. My chili is going to be hot and spicy. Just like Nano Poblano… and the people involved. Who I won’t eat.