Chili therapy

When I turned 30, one of my nearest and dearest gave me a copy of Gloria Steinem's Revolution From Within. It's a self-esteem book, and at that time I was in a relationship that wasn't very healthy, depressed a lot, and probably quite tiring. I love Steinem's writing and some stories at the end of the book stayed with me.

They were about creating as therapy. Painting, throwing pots, using your senses in the process of making something beautiful.

Oddly enough, she did not mention cooking, but I can't think of a better example. Cooking uses all the senses. Does the lamb look lean or fatty? Toast the seeds until you hear them pop. Does the fragrance of one spice stand out or did they all blend well? Do the vegetables feel firm under your hands? I could go on about kneading bread dough, but I think I have in a previous entry and this is about chili. This is all before you even get around to tasting things.

Guess what I did this afternoon? It was going to be tomorrow morning because I thought I was going to a write-in today, but the write-in is tomorrow, so chili today. Currently simmering on the stove I have:

• 2 pounds of cubed lamb
• One bulb of garlic, minced
• 4 14.5oz cans diced tomatoes with green chiles 
• 4 15oz cans of Goya small red beans. They smell pretty sweet.
• 3 baseball-sized onions, chopped
• 2 poblano peppers, chopped
• 2 T ground dried chiles (more on that below)
• 2 T ground cumin
• 1 T chopped ginger (there's always at least one jar in the fridge)
• 1 dried habanero, crumbled to bits
• 2 shakes of ground coriander
• 2 bottles of Magic Hat not-quite-pale ale

The apartment smells fabulous, but the chili won't be ready for hours. It will simmer for quite a while, then be reheated in the morning, and it will be served with some crusty rolls. I'll try to get Nexx to comment.

When I went into my severely overloaded spice cabinet for the chili powder, I found two things that made me smile. Dried red chiles (the type you find in some of your spicy Asian dishes in American restaurants. (I am not getting into Asian authenticity here. You can't make me.) Also a bag of dried chiles de arbol. There was also cumin seed, probably from my last batch of garam masala.

So, I used my trusty spice grinder instead of the usual jarred stuff. Assuming this isn't atomically hot, I think this chili will be quite tasty.

It was certainly sensuous.

First Time for Everything: Split Pea Soup

At the rate things are going this winter, I'm going to be making a lot of soup. We've had snow, ice, more snow. My landlords have plowed my car into its parking space on one hand and on the other demanded I clean it and move it on their deadline. So I'm staying inside a lot.


First time I had split pea soup was in my first apartment. My landlady made some and served it with bits of ham and swiss on the side. It was rich, thick enough to stand the spoon straight up, and was very warming and delicious.


I realize ham is traditional, but I've always had a thing for a good smoked sausage, so when I found a recipe to start with, I made, as usual, my own adjustments:


My final list of ingredients, which differ slightly from Simply Recipes:


One pound split peas (I used yellow; the store didn't have green that day)
One large onion, chopped
One large leek, chopped
One large carrot, chopped
6 cloves of garlic chopped
2.5 quarts low-sodium chicken broth
garlic salt to taste
freshly ground peppercorns to taste
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon celery seed
8 sprigs Italian Parsley
12 oz smoked sausage, sliced to 1/2"


I knew if I overcooked the sausage, it wouldn't be a lot of fun, so I took the advice of another recipe (I lost the link; I looked at so many) and lightly cooked the sausage at the bottom of pot on low heat, then removed it with the slotted spoon and set it aside.


Next, I sautee'd all the chopped vegetables in the remaining sausage fat for about five minutes. I ended up throwing in about tablespoon of butter because the fat was getting absorbed.


Next, I added the chicken stock. The recipe said to add water, but this is a place where I happily had broth. While beer might be a good accompaniment, I was not making beer soup, wine had the wrong flavor profile, and chicken broth is mild enough not to overpower the sausage.


Lastly, I stirred in the peas and brought the whole mixture to a boil. After skimming the foam off the top (there wasn't much), I brought the heat down to just above simmer, put the cover on 7/8 of the way and let it cook for the required hour and a half.


Then I called my friend Gina in a panic. "It's not soup!" The peas were only partly soft, and it didn't taste like anything. After being calmed down and reassured that it probably just needed to cook down some more, I stirred it, took the lid off and let it cook for another couple hours.


Sometime in that two hours the magic happened because I had soft peas with lots of flavor, tasty vegetables and a hint of spice. I added some more pepper.


There is an immersion blender in this apartment somewhere. There's also my digital camera and a nice pair of knee-high boots. I did find my purple sweater yesterday, so there's hope. So, lacking the immersion blender, I ran the soup through my regular blender two cups at a time. Never overfill your blender, and always keep one hand on its lid. Trust me on this one. I nearly lost a brand-new sweater not heeding this advice


After blending, I reintroduced the sausage, stirred and fed a bowl to my sweetie. He wasn't sure he had had pea soup before, and definitely liked this one. I had mine topped with a little swiss and a toasted English muffin. The recipe makes four generous servings--enough for a main dish, or six small servings if there's a sandwich and salad involved.


Next time, I think a little heavier on the spices. I'd like more of the allspice. I'm not sure the celery seed was necessary. Watch this space for take two.


How do you like your split peas?


Questions? Comments? Death threats? I'd love to hear from you!