All for the sake of research

Betty and I had one of our culinary adventures today--and one of the best ever. We went to check out Tolbert's Restaurant in Grapevine for my book on chili. For those who don't know, historian and journalist Frank X. Tolbert was the guru of Texas chili and a cofounder of the annual Terlingua International Chili Championship Cookoff. If anybody's chili is authentic, it should be Tolbert's. The restaurant is owned and managed by the late Tolbert's daughter, Kathleen Tolbert Ryan. We met years ago, at a strange dinner party, but I was delighted when I called her that she remembered me and was anxious to work with me on my chili book.
So today, she met us at the restaurant with a fabulous collection of pictures and posters for the book. And we had lunch. Now I'd been a bit worried--Tolbert was a chili purist (no beans, for one thing) and I worried that his chili would be too hot--after all, years ago I was a Yankee and my palate has never adjusted to really spicy food. And then of course I worried about eating too much fattening food. Not at all! Lunch was a delightful experience. We had donkeys' tails.
Puzzled? Well, it's a Tolbert invention--a pure beef hot dog, wrapped in a tortilla and deep fried. I'd seen this when I googled the menu, and of course I pictured sort of a greasy quesadilla with a hot dog in it. Forget that. The tortilla was wrapped tightly around the hot dog--we still haven't figured out how they do that--and not the least bit greasy, just crisp and good, a perfect contrast  to the texture of the hot dog. It's served with a mustard sauce that Kathleen told us is a mix of mustard and their salsa (a combination I'd never thought of but it was great) and a taster's cup of chili. We figured out later maybe you're supposed to pour the mustard and chili over the donkey tail and eat it with a fork. We treated it as finger food, dunking the tail into mustard and eating the chili separately, which I was glad I did so I got a taste of it. It was so good we each asked for one more small cup--and this time they came with spoons. We each ordered a side of cole slaw--it was clearly made on site, fresh and crisp and no preservative taste. Betty and I agreed that we each could have eaten another hot dog (we split one order) but prudence kept us from it.
We watched a bowl of red being delivered to an adjacent table, and I wished I had my camera out. It  looks like a bowl of small chips with a gorgeous, perfect green chile perched on top of it. Eye appeal was great, and by then I was sort of wishing I'd ordered a bowl of chili--except I wouldn't have wanted to miss the donkey tails.
Kathleen toured us around the restaurant, pointing out various pictures, lots of her dad and one wonderful one of her mom at Terlingua. She even took us back in the kitchen and Betty toured the walk-in. Betty and her husband own the Star Cafe in Fort Worth, and those two restaurant gals had a good time comparing war stories.
All in all, it was a great adventure--and I came away with a lot of illustrations and some new knowledge for my book. Plus a friend I can call on when I have questions. Kathleen is still chair or co-chair of the Terlingua Festival. Sometimes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I guess she's been around chili most of her life.

Happiness

My neighbor (soon to move, alas!), Sue, has a blog called "Replete Life"--you should google it and read it. She blogged recently about happiness and various theories about what makes us happy--everyone has their own idea. But she ended witha quote from Edith Wharton to the effect that if we stopped trying so hard to be happy, we'd probably be happier.
Then I happened to read two installments of a three-part story in the newspaper about a young man who was motor-biking through the woods at the age of 12 or 13 and was shot in cold blood by a man who resented the noise. The young man's friend was killed, and he survived as a paraplegic. For years, he was filled with anger as he followed an excruciating physical therapy regime that didn't seem to be getting anywhere. He finally gave up on therapy and began a spiritual quest, reading about all the faiths of the world, and he came to the conclusion that love is behind all that is good. He has forgiven the shooter (who died that same day from police gunfire), and he has moved on with his life. He is a computer programer (with special equipment) and he goes to schools talking about his experience, his spiritual transofrmation, and what it means. It reminded me of the Blibical, "Faith, hope, and love, but the greatest of thse is love."
This may sound like Pollyanna, but I think we each choose whether or not to be happy. I have, as we all have, knwn people who are comfortable, seemingly with no worries, and are miserable, but I have also known people who have a world of troubles and are still happy. Sometimes I think it's genetic--we're either born with the happy gene or we're not, but then I've known people who have found happiness fairly late in life,which leads me back to the idea that we control it. We decide to be happy or not. And deep in me, I think it depends in large part on whether or not we choose to love ourselves or others. If we put ourselves first and always seek what makes us happy, it ain't gonna' work; but if we reach out beyond ourselves, we're liable to find happiness in so doing. On the other hand, I think you have to like, if not love, yourself before you can reach out to others. A conundrum. Deep philosophical stuff for me.
Yesterday I decided that one of the things that makes me happy is contact with other people. I spent the day at home, working on the manuscript I'm editing.The wonderful lady who cleans my house was here, but we don't talk much. Beyond that and a few phone calls, I had no social contact, and it showed. Today I went to two groceery stores, mailed my income tax stuff to the accountant, and took some food to a friend who has just gotten out of the hospital. Tonight Jordan, Christian and Jacob came for supper. I made chicken chili with white beans (it had a lot of chili powder and cumin but was really good--we tried to tell Jacob it had chicken nuggets in it; he took one bite, said he liked it, and then said he didn't like it--go figure!). Anyway, it was good to be around people. I value my quiet time at home when I'm working, but I don't really like a day without some kind of social contact--and now that I'm retired I do have those, plus weekends are often that way. I'll just have to work on being happy. This weekend my plan is to cook some really good stuff for myself--Welsh rarebit and tuna cakes are high on my list.