A Tale of Two Chilies

Since I’m working on a book titled Texas is Chili Country (probably to be published by Texas Tech University Press in the Fall of 2014), I’m ever alert to chili recipes. And in researching various mutations (yes, they are) of chili across the country, I had read about Cincinnati chili but had no recipe. I was delighted to find this by Cheryl Norman on the blog, “Chicklets in the Kitchen.” She rewrote it for me, and for good measure, threw in a recipe for Vermont chili. Who knew Vermont had chili, let alone as fiery as some Texas chili? Another treasure, with her permission, for my book. Read, cook, and enjoy these recipes from Cheryl, herself a cookbook author.

Please welcome Cheryl Norman to Potluck with Judy

I love to travel and I love to cook, which means I’m happy when traveling in an RV. I sample dishes all over the United States and try recreating them in my tiny motor home kitchen. Recently, I published a collection of my versions of the recipes as sort of a culinary tour in my cookbook Hasty Tasty RV Recipes.

One dish I found fiercely debated was chili. Texans have their style, a spicy, meaty chili. Southern chili often has beans and corn. Midwest chili often is served with elbow macaroni or spaghetti. One thing all chili has is great taste. Two of my favorites, vastly different in seasonings and flavor, are Vermont chili and Cincinnati chili.

What? You don’t think of Vermont for chili? Neither did we until we happened upon a café featuring the state championship chili. We had to order it, although we still had our doubts. Turned out to be spicy, as hot as any Tex-Mex dish, and yummy. It’s still one of our favorite gastronomic memories.

Cincinnati Chili, according to my husband, isn’t chili at all. It’s a pasta dish with a flavorful and meaty sauce, but it’s not chili. He may not be a fan of the Mediterranean version of chili, but I am. I love Cincinnati-style Chili. Here is my version:

Hasty Tasty Cincinnati-style Chili

Ingredients:

1 pound lean ground beef or lean ground turkey

2 cups water or broth

1 cup frozen diced onion

1 Tbsp. minced garlic

2 Tbsp. garam masala*

1 tsp. allspice

1 tsp. chili powder

1 Tbsp. cocoa powder

1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 Tbsp. apple cider vinegar

1 15-oz can tomato sauce

2 cups cooked whole wheat spaghetti

1 can small red beans, rinsed and drained (optional for topping)

1 cup diced onion (optional for topping)

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese (optional for topping)

Directions:

Cook ground beef in the water or broth over medium heat in a large (4 quart) saucepan.

When the beef is cooked, add onion and garlic. Stir.

Add the spices, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, and tomato sauce. Stir and     bring to a boil.

Lower heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Remove the sauce from heat. Serve over cooked whole wheat spaghetti and add optional toppings if desired.

Five-way chili is topped with cheese, onions, and beans. Four-way is topped with two of the three, etc.

 Yield: Serves 4

Store leftover sauce in an airtight container in the freezer for up to four  months.

*Garam masala is a spice blend. Or make your own as follows:

1 Tablespoon ground cumin

½  teaspoons ground coriander

½  teaspoons ground cardamom

½  teaspoons ground pepper

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

½  teaspoon ground cloves

½  teaspoon ground nutmeg

Combine all ingredients and mix well. Store in a cool, dry place in an airtight container.

****

For Vermont Chili, I had no recipe, so I tried to recreate it. If you can find Bloemer’s Chili Base in your area (Bloemer’s is based in Louisville), use it for seasoning. I order mine online from BloemerFoods.com.

 

Vermont Chili

 Ingredients:

1.3 pounds lean ground turkey or beef (your choice) or combination turkey/beef

12 oz. frozen diced onions

1 10 oz. can diced tomatoes and green chilies

1 15 oz. can tomato sauce

1 oz. chili powder

1 15.5-oz. can chili beans

1 can or bottle beer, any kind

1 chopped jalapeño (optional)

 Directions:

Brown ground turkey and onion over medium-low heat in a covered 4-quart pan. Gradually add the remaining ingredients.

Bring to a boil, then cook, uncovered until the liquid reduces and chili is thick. Don’t rush it. This reduction can take from 20-45 minutes. Remove from heat and serve.

Store leftovers in a covered container or freeze in an airtight bag or container.

Yield: 4–5 servings

 These chili recipes plus many more are included in Hasty Tasty RV Meals by Cheryl Norman ©2012 For more information, visit hastytastymeals.com. Also visit Cheryl’s fiction writing site at cherylnorman.com.

****

Cheryl Norman grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, where she wrote her first mystery at the age of thirteen. She earned a BA in English at Georgia State University in Atlanta. After a career in the telecommunications industry, she returned to fiction writing and won the 2003 EPPIE award for her contemporary romance, Last Resort.  Her debut with Medallion Press, Restore My Heart, led to a mention in Publisher's Weekly as one of ten new romance authors to watch. Running Scared, a romantic suspense set in Jacksonville, Florida, and Washington D.C., received a Perfect 10 from Romance Reviews Today. Reviewer Harriet Klausner calls her writing "Mindful of Linda Howard."

Her latest romantic suspense novel for Medallion is Reclaim My Life, and Cheryl has two novellas in the anthology Romance on Route 66. Rebuild My World, the sequel to Reclaim My Life, was published in 2011 by Turquoise Morning Press.

Cheryl has combined her passion for writing and healthful cooking by publishing four cookbooks (two finalists in the EPIC competition in the self-help category). In addition to writing, Cheryl works with breast cancer survivors to raise awareness about early detection and treatment of the disease. She also helps writers with grammar via her Grammar Cop blog, newsletter articles, and workshops.

 

More neighborhood notes

Jacob, his mom, and Sophie

I'm still thinking about my neighborhood. Late this afternoon Jacob went to the neighbors behind me to play. When I went to pick him up and get him ready for his baseball game, they were all down the block, looking across the street. A blue heron was perched in another neighbors' shrub, standing tall and erect, almost like one of the statues they have on their porch railing. I drove in that driveway (on a separate errand) but the bird never moved, never flinched. Jacob thought it was cool. It's not everywhere that people, and children, get so excited about a rare bird.
Tonight, while he was at his game, I saw on the porch and read--so peaceful and quiet, except for lots of birdsong. Wish I was better about identifying various birds and their songs. Lots of walkers, many with dogs, went by, along with bikers. Lately I've noticed an unusual number of men riding bikes with baby carriages--those little cocoon-like things--attached to the back. Today I saw one brave soul with one of those plus a toddler strapped to a child's seat directly behind him. Brave soul! I said as much aloud, and Jacob asked, "Why is he brave?"
Jacob is still at his Little League game, something I have mixed feelings about. Last night, his dad had to interrupt his planned evening to take him to a game; tonight another boy's grandmother picked him up, because his parents are both busy and my knee is not up to tramping around a baseball field--I'm not sure my psyche is either; tomorrow his parents will take him to an evening game. Three games in three nights? There goes the weekend. And tonight he'll be sweaty and dirty; if he's going to church with me, he needs a shower. He's used to baths--at home--so this will be an adventure.
I don't think Jacob knows his neighbors at home or has playmates on the street, so that's another plus about the neighborhood. He's getting a sense of neighborhood and friends. Jay and Susan next door pay a lot of attention to him, and he has Sam and his little brother behind us for playmates (I swear I want a gate between the yards). But it's one of the things I'm glad I can offer him.
And the other, a big one, is that I've taught him to love dogs. When Sophie was tiny, she bit and jumped so much, as puppies do, that he didn't like her, so he turned to my Aussie, Scooby. We lost Scooby last summer, and Jacob and Sophie are not almost inseparable. They spend hours outside, running, wrestling, playing fetch. From being afraid of dogs, he's gone to being a dog lover.
Life is good. Sorry I've rambled but that's the way my mind is working tonight.

Come visit my neighborhood

Lily B. Clayton Elementary School

across the street from my house

Picture by Polly Hooper

Several years ago, my younger son who lives in a big house in a suburb north of Dallas, said to me, “I want to live in a neighborhood like you do.” I do live in a neighborhood, with all that implies, the kind Mr. Rogers meant when he asked, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” The houses are old (mine was built in 1922) and probably the red brick bungalow dominates, but we have two-story houses and even a McMansion or two with zero lot line (working to stop that trend); our houses also come in tan brick, stucco, painted brick, some with arched windows and vaulted ceilings, others with tall ceilings and crown molding.. But they all have charm. We always hope add-ons will be done tastefully to fit in with the décor; similarly, we hope each home owner will maintain his or her property to the level of the neighborhood.

From my front porch

Tall trees arch over our streets, forming a canopy that seems to shelter us. When I sit on my front porch, I can block out traffic and pretend I’m in a tree house, surrounded by oaks, crape myrtle, pecan, the great elm in front of my house (which is very old and worries me every time we have a storm). And I can listen to a railroad train a couple of blocks away—many would complain about that but I love trains and find the sound comforting.

We have an active, even pro-active neighborhood association with monthly meetings and a monthly neighborhood newsletter. Recently a national chain has started producing a slick magazine for the neighborhood, but I’m prejudiced—I like our traditional newsletter (maybe because I’m about to become editor). Our neighborhood association deals with the issues of buildings that don’t fit into the neighborhood “style,” from an office complex on the edge of the neighborhood to contemporary houses built in the middle, or the narrowing of the main road that runs through the neighborhood, a commuter route for many in our city, and the zoo, which is on the edge of our neighborhood. It sponsors everything from Easter parades and ice cream socials to Christmas gift baskets for shut-ins and the elderly. We also have a busy email list where people post about lost dogs and cats and stray dogs seen wandering. Neighbors looking after neighbors.

I live across the street from an elementary school, the building so old and beautiful that it’s on one or the other register of historic places, with its art deco touches and a goldfish pond in one of the basement kindergarten rooms. That school anchors the neighborhood and is the focus for many activities. I am lucky that grandson Jacob goes to school there. Every day I walk across the street to get him, and we spend our afternoons together doing homework.

My house in the snow

Photo by Susan Halbower

It’s the kind of neighborhood where a small group gathers each Tuesday night at the local café for supper. I love it for the camaraderie and because Tuesday night is meatloaf night.  A few years ago, when we had a heavy, wet snow, my neighbor across the street sent her teenage son to shovel my walk. When I tried to pay him, he said, “Oh, no, thank you. This is what neighbors do for each other.”

Last night my grandson and his playmates “discovered” a hole in my fence where my dog could escape. One of the little boys’ fathers came promptly to fix it, saying the boys hadn’t just discovered the hole—they made it and then tried to block it when they (probably Jacob) realized that Sophie might get away.

So, thank you Berkeley and Margaret Johnson and son Atticus and Jason Brown who mended the fence and Mary Dulle who encouraged me to go to dinner (and made me newsletter editor) and the Barrs and the Harrals and Lyn and others who join us on Tuesday night. And thank you to Jay and Susan, Greg and Jaimie, terrific neighbors who kind of watch after me. I can’t think of a better place to live.

My Kelly O’Connell Mysteries are set in a neighborhood, but it is not Berkeley—it’s Fairmount, which is just adjacent to us. But in writing of that neighborhood and the community spirit, I very much had Berkeley in mind. The houses in Fairmount are a bit older, with lots of Craftsman homes, and the streets are wonderful and wide, like they used to make them. But Fairmount and Berkeley share many characteristics.

Nope, I don’t want to live in a development or a high-rise or a condo in assisted living. When people ask if I’m considering selling, I say, “No. Not until my kids make me.”

Hello, world! I'm back

This is my whine: I’ve had walking pneumonia for two weeks, the antibiotics were making me sick, and it hurt to walk because of the fall on my knee. The weather was gloomy, cold and rainy, which didn’t help at all. Yesterday was a low point in my existence.

This is the cheerful part: I woke about three in the morning and thought, “I feel better.” And this morning I felt almost like myself. The sick feeling is almost gone, though I was cautious about eating all day and I still took a long nap, my knee is better if not healed, and I’m not coughing much. The sun is bright and the day much warmer. By the weekend we’ll be in the 80s and we can all begin to moan and groan about summer.

When you’re miserably sick, you can’t imagine ever feeling better. When it’s gloomy and rainy, you can’t imagine it being bright and sunny. And when things do change, it’s sort of like seeing the world with brand new eyes. It makes you appreciative and grateful.

I’m tired of being home, cancelling lunches and dinners with friends. I want to get out in the world and pick up the normal threads of my life. Starting with the grocery store tomorrow.

I have been reading a novel just for the heck of it—something I don’t often find time to do—and I’ve come to a conclusion: I do NOT like rhetorical questions in a cozy mystery. One is too many; lots are lots too many. Shhh—I’ll never tell what I’m reading.

A fall, a good big brother, and a treatment

In this family photo from last year, my brother is in the middle of the back row,

with a gimme cap. I thought I had a photo of the two of us but can't find it.

Osteopathic medicine runs in my family. When my brother and I were young, we could count 18 osteopathic physicians in the family, including uncles, cousins, his father (who died young) and mine. John become a D.O., as did his son and one of my nieces from New York. Today's generation proudly carries on the tradition.
John and I have swapped stories from our childhood. He said if he was sick in bed, he'd hear Dad coming up the stairs and think, "If I pretend to be asleep, he won't treat me." It never worked. I used to scream, wiggle, and protest, Dad would say, "People pay me good money to do this."
John came to treat me for my walking pneumonia today, and I conveniently managed to fall and badly bruise a knee last night, so he treated me for both. And both feel better tonight. John's treatments are nothing like Dad's--Dad was old school, crack and pop. He had hands like a giant from all his years of using them. John's treatment today focused mainly on my head and neck though he pumped my chest and told me to cough. His touch is gentle, and you don't realize he's doing anything, but his eyes are closed and he's concentrating. I can sure tell he loosened my sinuses.
The nicest part about it was that we had a good visit while my sister-in-law kept an appointment. My brother lives maybe an hour and a quarter away, and we talk on the phone frequently but we only see each other on family occasions, so this was a bonus. Of course tonight I can think of a dozen things I didn't tell him. All my life, I've known I was grateful to have a protective big brother--and to be born into an osteopathic family.

Politics, Politicians, and Pollyanna

My son Jamie shared a couple of You-Tube videos from the show "Newsroom" with me this morning, and we got into an interesting discussion of what's broken in America. Conclusion? The system. One clip showed a young girl asking why America is the greatest country in the world. The show star's long answer boiled down to "It's not the greatest country in the world, but it was and it could be again."
Set me thinking about politicians today. I guess I'm Pollyanna, but in an ideal world I think they would run for office because they wanted to be public servants. Therefore, they would put the public good ahead of their own success (that's sort of what I think physicians should do too, and I think maybe since the day of doctors earning big bucks seems to be passing, that sort of change is happening in medicine). But back to politics--let me use Texas Senator John Cornyn as an example, though I know it happens on both sides of the aisle (I may be Pollyanna, but I'm not that stupid!). Cornyn seemed a reasonable fellow when he was in office in Texas, but when he got to Congress, he lost any individual opinion, always voting the party line. Recently I read that he's moving closer to the extreme right wing because he's worried about his re-election. Therein lies my problem--the only reason I can see for becoming more conservative is that you really embrace those core beliefs. If you don't believe it, how can you say it?
I was also horrified to read that Speaker John Boehner publicly said he rejected the President's latest budget without reading it. To me that speaks of a deep bias against the President and not at all of a willingness to work together, to compromise for the sake of the common good--and all those people who are hurting because of the sequester.
I know a few politicians, past and present, who I think really had or have the public good in mind. Senator Ted Kennedy was one; Texas Representative Lon Burnam is another, though Lord knows he faces an uphill battle in the Texas House. I like to think U.S. Representative Marc Veasey is another, but I only know about him through my daughter and her husband. Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel seems to be another. Can't make my mind up about Ron Paul--he had some good ideas but a lot that were pretty wild.
Jamie and I came to no conclusions because there is no simple fix. Term limits sound reasonable, to me, because they would keep legislators from getting too entrenched, but Jamie pointed out you'd have too many people who don't know what they're doing. We have one example of an out-of-control freshman legislator from Texas who may prove his point.
Maybe, as Medicare and Obama care have done with physicians, we should stop rewarding legislators so handsomely and making it so expensive to run that only the wealthy can afford to try. As we careen toward an oligarchy, maybe we should think about that.

Trivia from a mostly good day

Having my friend Elizabeth in the guest house is having unexpected benefits. In the twenty years I've lived in this house, my back yard has been a dog wasteland--with at one time three large dogs. Now I'm down to one fairly well behaved dog--she did drag a fern across the yard, not knowing what she had. But with Jordan's help, we've added  table and chairs, and Elizabeth has put out pots of flowers, handing ornamentation, and statues. This afternoon Jordan, Elizabeth, Jacob, and I had a happy hour out there--lovely day, perfect temperature, the sun a welcome relief after our cold, rainy days. It was a fine moment, and I just sat there and enjoyed it.
This morning I ventured out to the grocery, after having not been out of the house for three days. I always think my fears are worse than others, but Elizabeth said to me, "It's like you're on Mars, isn't it?" I did feel weird, and my confidence in my walking, always shaky, was at low ebb. I laughed at the post office, because when I got out of the car I took two hesitant small steps, using my cane, and then hit my stride, tucked the cane under my arm and walked confidently away. I know there was a woman watching me and I suspect she was greatly puzzled. But the trip to the post office and grocery wore me out--so tired when I came home. And couldn't nap, because I kept coughing.
At three I was out to pick up Jacob, and it was like the world was back to normal. After I gave him a snack, he went out and helped Elizabeth build a brick step outside her door--when it rains a deep puddle forms there, so now she can step inside without wet feet. I wait daily to see what new improvements she'll bring. Greg, who mows, thinks it's all a pain, but he's cheerful about it.
I've learned a Facebook lesson again that I've learned over and over--check before posting. Today I managed to post a picture of a man who was said to visit dog shelters looking for dogs he could use as bait--false; then I posted instructions for what to do if you have a heart attack--and was told they were not only wrong, they could be dangerous (I plan to ask the doctor about that). Then I shared a prayer for a certain Marine battalion under heavy fire in Afghanistan--only to learn that they've been home for two years. (I wondered why this hadn't been on the news.) I can hear my son-in-law shouting, "Snopes, Jude, snopes!" I promise to be more careful. Apparently I've also fallen for hoaxes of sick and dying children. Too soft a heart--but it's scary to think all this misinformation is out there on the web.
Now I'm off to fix something my mom always gave me when I was sick--stewed tomatoes with butter and crumbled crackers. Yum! Perfect comfort food for one who hasn't had an appetite. But, yay, I've lost several lbs. I know, I know--it will come back.

Is the sky falling?

Watching the evening news these days is a grim experience: a petty dictator in North Korea is stamping his foot and threatening nuclear attack; people die daily by the dozens in the Middle East; severe weather problems beset the entire globe; famine in Africa makes us weep for those who die of malnutrition; here at home, a partisan Congress is stalled on budget, gun control, the right to marry--major issues for many of us. The sequester has taken much-needed jobs from people and essential aid from the medically underserved and poverty stricken. It occurs to me as I worry that our grandparents and their parents probably thought the world was falling apart a hundred years ago--and it didn't so far.
Most of us feel powerless in the face of the enormity of the world's problems. I know I do. I have great admitation for people like Bill Gates and Warren Buffet, who do enormous charitable work throughout the world. I have chosen a few causes to support in my own small way--that means a small check occasionally.
Each of us has to choose what we can do, especially with limited resources. I've chosen to help lost or stray dogs and those about to be euthanized by posting about them on Facebook and sharing posts from others. It's a discouraging effort without much feedback, but there is a network of people who do this, many more active than I am. I do know of a few dogs who have happy homes because of my effort. If I could, I would bring so many of them home, but Sophie and I are settled in a comfortable routine--I'm afraid she shines as the only dog.
One friend asked why I devote so much time and effort to animals when there are so many hungry and homeless children. My answer is twofold: beyond food drives at my church or the food bank, I can do little to dent the problems of hungry children, either here at home or throughout the world, but I can make a difference for dogs. And we humans are responsible for those animals--we have bred them, let them reproduce, and they too have feelings and fears. Too many of us have been irresponsible pet owners. Maybe I can make a tiny bit of amends.
 

Housebound

I could get into this business of being sick--or semi-sick. As I wrote that, I realized that there are so many who are desperately ill that my light-hearted approach will seem heartless and, believe me, I don't mean it that way. But a today at home has been lovely. Walking pneumonia gave me all kinds of excuses for not doing things I didn't want to, like going out in a chilly rain. And it let me throw work to the winds and spend the morning leafing through my appalling collection of recipes, though that was kind of strange since I have no appetite. Still, several events loom on my culinary horizon and I was able to start picking possible recipes. This Sunday, I'll cook for Elizabeth and a friend--she has requested chili, and until today I'd have said the weather is too hot. But chili would be so good right now. She's brought gluten-free cornbread mix, and we'll have salad and guacamole with chips.
In mid-April, special friends are coming--the girl I grew up next door to and haven't seen in fifty years, with her husband, and we'll be joined for lunch by mutual friends from here in town. I want it to be a really special lunch, not overwhelming, light and spring-like, just the right dish. I'm working on it.
And then a few nights later, I'll cook the entree for a welcome-new-neighbor dinner for about twelve--vacillating between crockpot barbecue, chicken tetrazini, and a couple of other choices. I love going through recipes. One file I searched today is my "Entrees Never Tried" and as I went through I was heartless about discarding things I'd never cook. Reduced the file a great deal, a good thing since it was growing out of bounds. Too easy to snip something from a magazine and slide it in there. I have to think through whether or not I'd really cook that...and for who? (whom?)
Then there was napping, some sorting of papers on my desk, writing two guest blogs...oh, yes, I kept busy, didn't malinger in bed all day, though I did have a good nap. My biggest problem is that when I lie down, I start to cough. With 7-UP, cough drops, and some liquid that is supposed to help me sleep, it still takes a while. But, thank heaven, when I sleep, I do it soundly.
Tonight I made ham salad--so much ham left over--and ate a bit of leftover potato salad and fruit salad. They're both almost gone. Another good aspect to this: I've lost five pounds. But that, I know, will come back quickly.
And by tomorrow, I'll be ready to get back to the world. It's supposed to continue raining...oh, well.

Waltzing Mathilda...no, that's not right

Walking Pneumonia, not Waltzing Mathilda--that's what I have. An insult to me, who claims to never get sick. My mom had a philosophy: if you woke up not feeling well, you just got up and went about your day and pretty soon you felt a lot better. I applied that to my kids so much that one friend complained that they had to have a 105 fever before I let them stay home from school. But they are healthy people today! I remember once when Jamie was six or seven and given to dizzy spells that no one could diagnose, he told me he was too dizzy to get out of bed. "Nonsense," I said as I hauled him to his feet. "See? You're just fine." Then I let go and he crumped in a pile on the floor.
Well that's sort of what happened to me. For six days I kept telling myself this deep cough would get better; indeed I was improving. But this morning at five after a sleepless night I suddenly decided that was hogwash and it was time for the doctor to confirm my own diagnosis: walking pneumonia. I blustered through a long morning in the doctor's office, an x-ray clinic and finally a pharmacy, but I could feel I was losing it. I left the prescriptions at a pharmacy by Jordan's office so she could easily pick them up and went home to bed.
Jordan did pick up the medicine, 7-Up, cough drops, soup, saltines, etc. and came and tucked me in. Then she got Jacob from school, which I had until noon been prepared to do and discovered I had no more stamina for that than for running around the block. She takes good care of me, and I am most grateful.
Coming home at noon was a changing moment: I went from carrying on for the world to being sick and treating myself like an invalid, which I guess I'll do for the next couple of days. Slept all afternoon, got up for a couple of hours, and crept back to bed. Now I've been up an hour and a half, and I'm about to go back to bed, armed with cough drops, 7-Up, and a syrup that is supposed to help me sleep.
In a way, it's kind of nice. I can do this in-and-out-of-bed thing for a couple of days--reading, writing, sleeping. And yet I've ignored all the work that's piled on my desk in favor of reading a mystery. Tomorrow I may do a little menu planning--though I'm not much interested in food right now, and I may get back to the book I was almost finished editing and the guest blog I need to write.
Maybe there's something to giving in and occasionally admitting that you really don't feel well--as long as it doesn't become a habit.