When my father cooks his chili, I feel the excitement rumble in my stomach. His chili is my favorite; It has the perfect blend of ingredients. The tender meat with a kick of spice, along with the small portion of beans my mother likes him to do even though he prefers to go without it. Topping it off with shredded cheese makes complements it perfectly. For an occasional special dinner, we will add Fritos where you can mix together or scoop out the chili with, to add a good crunch to the blend.

Chili is like an annual tradition. Every Halloween, we and the extended family gather at my grandmother’s house. There, is presented a table-full of deliciousness to feast on (Though the leftovers are the best part of the night), However mine, along with everybody else’s eyes, fall upon the pot filled with my father’s famous chili. It has trickles of its sauce running down to the stove, the spoon laid upon a napkin with chunky remnants from the previous scoop. So messy, yet so fulfilling.

Chili is communal. A few years ago, my town held a chili cook off. Anyone who attends, with the exception of a ticket, can walk around, taste all the contestant’s chili dishes and proceed to vote for which attempt was best. Along the way are brief rest stops or expensive drink stands, even little prize games for families and their children to play. I remember walking around with my family, tasting all the different textures and spices, (dis)liking some more than others. Some we flat-out hated, but that’s what adds to the experience. I remember the glaring sun, all of us sweating miserably as we circled around the event yet bonded like no other.

Inktober Day 6: Rodent

I could literally watch Ratatouille back to back- it’s definitely one of my favorites 🥰🐭👩🏾‍🍳 We thought it’d be funny to show a battle of the chefs (Quan thinks he’d beat Remy in a cook off... oookay 😂)