For the love of Chili

My husband loves chili. Wait. I should expand on that. My husband loves MY chili. In our 9 years of marriage, I have probably made him chili on a weekly basis.
When he sees that it is chili night, he purposefully eases himself down into his chair with a pre-emptive sigh of contentment. His eyes get big as he picks up his spoon in anticipation of that first rich bite of chili. Combined with my homemade, honey drenched cornbread, it is a rare man that has experienced such ecstasy at a dinner table.

I should now explain that ‘my’ chili does not have a recipe. It changes from batch to batch depending on what I have on hand and how much time I have to let it simmer and stew. This has become the most exciting element of chili night. Each pot is just a little bit different yet each meal my loving husband insists that this batch is the best he’s ever had.

Until…

It was a busy day and my late afternoon was going to be a bit crazy so I began to concoct today’s unique blend of sauces and spices into the crock pot for an easy meal later. Now normally, I taste and adjust as needed when I cook but figured that as often as I make chili, I’m just going to throw it together and call it good.
At the table that night my husband sat down in eager anticipation of his meal, lifting his spoon full of rich, thick chili to his mouth. Eyes closed to fully enjoy that first taste.
“Interesting”
Eh? His eyebrows furrow. He takes another bite to make sure that the first wasn’t somehow tainted. And then, he says it.

“You know, my mom makes really good chili. You should get her recipe”.

In utter astonishment my spoon begins to fall from my hand in slow motion. The children all stop mid-bite and stare in awestruck horror. Even the birds of the air and the beasts of the field stop to perk their ears in wonderment at the stupidity of a man who dared to drop the “M” bomb at the dinner table.
As the sun abandons it’s decent into the west, my husband dares don a look of utter amazement that his suggestion would bring about such earth shattering consequences.
It has now been several months since the mushroom cloud over our house has disappeared, but my once loving and tender husband is now permanently marked as a traitor. Don’t get me wrong, we still love him and occasionally talk to him and I even still make him chili from time to time. Of course the experience is a bit different with him cowering in the corner twitching and mumbling “Mom chili bad. Wife chili good” but for the most part, chili night is still an exciting part of our week.