Anticipation is Half the Fun of Masochism

Last night I put up a piece complaining about single women who stand next to strange men at parties and await a tide of brilliant conversation without contributing much of anything, themselves. And the funniest thing about it is, the comments generally agree with me. In fact, I think Andrea Harris could have written this entry if I hadn't, sort of. Sometimes I think Andrea and I were split off from the same zygote back in the Sixties. Maybe some firm in Argentina was trying to breed a race of people ideally suited to keeping other people's kids off their lawns.

I appreciate people reviewing Cavemen for me. I can't believe I forgot to record it. Seems like most people think the show reeks. Sorry to hear that. I loved the karaoke clip they put on Youtube.

What's going on today? Gardening. I am a slave to my tomatoes. I went out and did the rounds, and I discovered the following things.

1. There was a giant hornworm on my precious, beautiful fatali pepper plant. It was over two inches long. And of course yesterday there was nothing there. How do they do that? How do they jump from egg to giant suggestive worm overnight? I really inspect these plants. I'm getting used to grabbing hornworms, but I'm really mad at them for refusing to let go of plants until you tear them and get bug juice all over your hand. From now on I think I'll snip them in half with clippers. Pulling on the worms damages my plants.

2. I have two new tomato sprouts. A Dr. Wyche's and a Cherokee Chocolate. And my existing sprouts are still alive. I'm working to avoid damping off, but it's still very wet outside. I should probably bring them indoors.

3. My new banana pepper plant flopped during the night. A couple of leaves pretty much disappeared, and the plant seems to be shriveling. I guess the rain got it. I moved it in under the roof, but I must have been too late. Now I'm hitting it with daconil.

4. My hanging Marianna's Peace tomato wilted. I am fairly sure I overwatered it. Maybe it will come back.

5. My existing tomatoes have not fallen off the vines. But I am willing to give them time.

6. Still no peppers on my yellow habanero.

7. I killed my Home Depot bell pepper yesterday and put the yellow habanero in its 5-gallon pot. The bell pepper was dying. It gave me one crop of crappy peppers and then refused to do anything, and finally, it started to die for no reason. No bugs, no disease. I don't know if there is such a thing as a determinate pepper plant, but this thing seemed to feel that one crop was plenty for a lifetime. I hope it goes to hell.

8. I killed my extra Mortgage Lifter plant. It got fungus when I moved it to its own big pot, and I couldn't fix it, so today I yanked it and threw it over a fence.

9. As of today, the papaya trees I planted from seed in June are as tall as I am. And it looks like I'll have over a dozen papayas. Unfortunately, papaya is not my favorite fruit. Maybe I can dry it.

My fatali peppers are gigantic. I thought these things were supposed to be small, like an inch and a half. But when they're done growing, they'll be nearly three inches long. I hope my Jamaican hot chocolates are big when they get done growing. For some reason, big hot peppers are more fun than small ones. And probably easier to dry and smoke.

I'm going to have to learn how to dry stuff. In Kentucky, people put apple bits on window screens and put the screens in their cars, in the sun. I don't think I'll be doing that with peppers and papayas. But I ought to do something. While I'm at it, I should dry a bunch of Granny Smith apples so I can eventually make fried apple pies. God, those are good.

I really want some smoked peppers. I will not accept failure as a possibility. I can buy chipotles, which are made from wimpy, limp, non-manly jalapenos. But smoked fatalis are not exactly easy to buy.

I'm dying for my tepin peppers to get ripe. The green one I ate had a marvelous flavor, so I'm wondering what the orange ones will be like. The green one had no heat at all. I guess that comes later. I think it would be fun to sprinkle a few whole tepins in chili and see if it kills anyone.

I'll be talking chili tonight on Nowlive. I'll repeat my recipe. I was planning to fool with a more traditional recipe, but I forgot. Mike says he'll come up with a side dish. My publisher doesn't want me publishing my recipes here, so if this stuff interests you, the only way to get it is by listening. I'm not writing them down anywhere; you have to pay attention while I recite the ingredients on the air. I may post them in the chat room.

I don't know a damn thing about traditional chili. Frankly, I wonder if anyone does. I suspect that there is no such thing. I keep meaning to Google and find out if chili exists in Mexico. When I was young, people used to tell me pizza was invented in America, and that Italians in Italy didn't eat it. Talk about bullshit.

Hey, let's check Wikipedia. It could be right. Conceivably.

Wikipedia says tepin peppers are traditional in chili. News to me. It calls them chiltepin or pequin peppers. Whatever. All I know is what was on the seed bag.

I guess I come across as a nut who eats his food as hot as possible, but that's not true. I think once you develop a tolerance, you should push it, because the pleasure comes from approaching the limit. But when your food is so hot you can't taste it, it sucks.

Here's something:

Many argue that chili was invented in Mexico during the 1840s, as a replacement for pemmican; others place its origin in Tijuana, Baja California, or Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico.

The Mexican origin theory holds that it was created as a complimentary dish served at cantinas, especially to please outsiders, who wanted something spicy and "Mexican" to eat, but also free or cheap. It was made with leftovers from the meals prepared in the cantina and served for free to drinking customers.

The Americanized recipe consisted of dried beef, suet, dried chili peppers (usually chilipiquenes), and salt, which were pounded together and left to dry into bricks, which could then be boiled in pots on the trail. An alternative, and more widely-accepted theory, holds that chili con carne was born in Ensenada, Mexico in the 1880s as a way of stretching available meat in the kitchens of poor Tejanos [citation needed]. However, this theory does not take in account Ensenada and Texas are very far from each other.

Damn, now I want chili.

I can tell you the things I like best about chili, and which I think virtually everyone neglects.

1. Put cheese in it or on it when you serve it. I toss a handful of cubes in.

2. Put chopped peppers on top when you serve it.

3. Beer is the best beverage for chili, and Dos Equis Amber is a great choice, and it's okay to put a lime in it.

4. If you have never had chili on a fried patacon, you have not lived.

5. You need sour cream on the side. And not a tiny sperm-specimen cup. A lot.

Looks like Elisson and I have similar ideas about beef. He just put up an entry about skillet-frying a porterhouse. I admire a guy who is willing to do that indoors. Like he says, if you can't get a bone-in rib eye, a porterhouse is the way to go. Unless you're a woman, in which case, have a bland filet, as women always do. Down here, the big advantage to rib eyes is that they're a good deal cheaper than porterhouse. No idea why.

Elisson pre-slices the steak and lets it "rest." GRRRR. Why can't everyone agree with me about everything?

Thanks, Jim Burton, for the heads-up on the Elisson piece.

I'm going to try to upload a ManCamp video later.

I better go check on my propane tank/smoke box project and see if the fire loosened the valve.