It’s chili night in the He Runs, I Cook household– YAY!
If you’re Australian, you’d say Chili Con Carne (or pronounced carnie– weird!), if you’re American, it’s just plain Chili, according to the The Runner, the Irish say it both ways…. whatever way you say it, tonight it’s Chili night in our house.
Chili is one of my favourite dishes in the world, and The Runner’s too oddly enough. I’m convinced that my mother makes the best chili in the world, and even though I have her recipe– which, to be honest, is slight imprecise, I haven’t quite been able to replicate it– ever.
I think it’s one of those foods that only Mom can cook for me. I love cooking it, but, chili in Australia is not the same as American chili.
One, the crackers (or biscuits) here aren’t the same– Stoned Wheat thins are AWESOME crushed on top with cheese and rice. I serve tortilla chips on top, but it’s not the same.
Two, my mother honestly makes it better than I do.
Thirdly, it reminds me of home so whenever I eat it here, I get just a bit homesick.
And fourthly, it’s not cold enough in Australia.
Chili was always a funny dish growing up– it was one of my favourite things to eat but The Mom would only make it in Winter time. Actually, my two favourite things to eat growing up were classed as Cold Weather Only foods…. Fondue and Chili.
The Mom could not fathom why anyone would eat Chili or Fondue if it wasn’t snowing– or at least threatening to snow out. It is NEVER EVER cold enough for chili or fondue in Australia if you follow The Mom’s food rules– and the funny thing is that I never eat fondue here and only really make chili about once a year. The weird thing about parents is that they tend to instill certain values in you that stay with you for years and decades– even if they don’t really make that much sense. I think that’s one thing I’m actually looking forward to about becoming a parent one day, being able to convince my children that I’m right about everything– at least for the first 5-15 years of their lives. Case in point, one of my besties has convinced her two year old that carrots, are a “sweet” or dessert for those of you in the states. No, not carrot cake, actual carrot sticks. And her son believes it– brilliant! I have to admit, I believed most of what my parents told me until I was about 22…. if not older!
Anyway, I digress– it’s cold and it’s chili night and we’re about to tuck in!