Yeah, I know that sounds a bit rude, doesn’t it? Sometimes I’m funny. But allow me to elaborate a bit. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, know me in real life, or have just gone to the trouble of reading my About Me page, then you know I’m originally from Cincinnati, Ohio. And whenever I get homesick, I tend to make up a batch of Cincinnati chili, to soothe myself. It’s one of the few meals or sides (crackers & gravy being the other that springs to mind right away) that I allow myself to consume without thought or care as to calories, WW points or serving sizes. I don’t make it that often, and in my case, being so far from home, it is indeed a true treat.
I decided earlier this week that I needed a batch of chili sometime soon. Long story short, I reconnected with an old classmate, and between the two of us and a couple other friends, basically had a 48-hour group therapy session on Twitter. The bulk of it came after a rather unpleasant exchange during the day on Wednesday that had me in tears for most of the morning, and since then, I’ve been wishing for some solace in the form of Cincinnati chili. Had I thought about it, I’d've also picked up a pint of Graeter’s at the grocery store this weekend, but I spaced that off.
The bambino doesn’t like chili, so he got a hot dog and some fries. Jay wanted a couple cheese coneys:
As for myself, I chose a ginormous plate of chili-cheese fries.
And even though this post’s title suggests otherwise, this time around, I didn’t make any 3-Ways. As soon as I reminded him we had hot dogs, Jay opted for the coneys, rather than having me make up a batch of spaghetti.
There’s no recipe this time around–I just used a seasoning packet from my dad. He sends me a bunch of them about once a year, and I ration them, so I don’t run out if a random craving strikes. With that, I’m off to clean up the kitchen. Have a good evening!