There are a couple things to be really alarmed about this morning, but I am pointedly going to ignore them. I am sure the people at CDC know exactly what they are doing. Let’s talk about what to do when the guests are gone and some great food is left over.

What do you do with all those wonderful veggies the guests brought? I was crashing around trying to get ready to head back to Arlington and saw the peppers, red onion, and those ominously pert things from Natasha’s garden. I was about salad-ed out from the garden goodies the guests had brought down for the Fall Moonshine tour. It was the bounty of the farmer’s market up North- fresh romaine lettuce, the green and red olives, the lovely tomatoes and the red yellow and red peppers dressed in fig vinegar and?

We never got around to messing with the Habanero peppers that came out of Natasha’s garden, which probably was best. In between playing with possibly the coolest new German Shepherd puppy (we talked about getting a cousin for me out of the next litter over I Nokesville so we could go into the breeding business) we talked about what was left to come out of the garden before the season closed down.

Natasha smiled mischievously as she emerged from the deer-proof fence around her pride and joy garden holding six small peppers, unblemished and cheery in appearance.

“Is Habanero. I planted them first time this year. They are not Ghost Peppers, but among the hottest in the world.”

“I heard that you can blind yourself with those things.”

She handed them to me with a grin. “Ensure hands are washed and do no touch nose or rub eyes. Is powerful chemical weapon. In 1999, the habanero was listed in the Guiness Book of World Records as the hottest, but it has been displaced by a number of other peppers. Record is subjective.”

I thanked her profusely- I have had a lot of vegetables from her garden this season and it has been a real blessing. We put them in a wine-glass when we got back next door and in the crush of activity- or maybe due to the moonshine- never got back to them.

I looked at what was liable to keep through the next weekend and what was an eat-or-lose proposition, and packed the perishable in a brown sack to load in the Panzer for the trip back to the Looney Bin we called Northern Virginia.

Curious thing after the hump on RT 29 approaching Vint Hill Road- the light at the bottom of the hill is invisible until you crest the rise, and there are flashing lights to warn you if the light is red so you don’t slam into the cars waiting for the green. No flashing lights, but some unfortunate soul had stalled their little Ford Fiesta in the right hand lane, and there was chaos as drivers swerved to avoid the vehicle.

That might be the most dangerous stretch of Rt. 29’s entire length, I thought, letting my breath go as I got by without incident. Life is a precious thing, and completely random.

Which is the way I made the chili. It was new Year’s Eve, after all, if you are a budget geek, the first of October at midnight when the Government Fiscal year evaporates like drops of water on a hot grill.

Which is what got me thinking about chili. I mean, if I had to cook a bunch of peppers and onions and mushrooms and stuff, why not make chili? I could even try out the habeneros.

I won’t bother to try to give you much beyond the ingredients, since everything goes into the big Lodge fry pan with the glass top in general proportions, no measurement required:

Ingredients:

All the peppers in the sack
All the Vadelia onions in the red bowl
That red onion
Two of those awesome tomatoes, quartered
The last half of the little jar of Chugwater Chili Powder
That frozen package of sausage from Croftburn Farms in the freezer
That can of diced tomatoes with chili peppers that has been on the shelf since last year
Black truffle salt
All the remaining garlic cloves from that big bulb I got two months ago
Anything else that doesn’t move away when you open the fridge
Three out of six of Natasha’s habanero peppers.
The half tub of fresh mushrooms that aren’t looking nearly as fresh as when they came home last week.

Directions:
Coarse chop the veggies and sauté in extra virgin olive oil in the heavy Lodge pan. Throw in everything else. Be extremely careful with the habaneros. I got everything else moved into the pan, got the onions just about translucent, threw in the Croftburn Farms protein and got into my HAZMAT suit with Goggles and visor.
I thought three peppers would be enough to deliver some heat to the chili. I positioned the fire extinguished, and delicately sliced the peppers down the middle and rinsed the interior pulp veins and small seeds out in the sink. The stainless steel was unaffected, and I then stood back and tossed them in the Lodge and slammed the cover on.

Then I washed my hands vigorously. No chemical attack for me.

Then I turned the gas down to below simmer and went to Willow and swapped lies with Old Jim and Jon-without for a couple hours.

When I got home, the chili was bubbling nicely. I got out a spoon to taste how we were doing, just a minute amount, really. There was a nice smell and the ingredients had got to know each other well.

And then something began to glow on my tongue, a rich growing warmth. REALLY growing. I poured an adult beverage to cool the flames.

Three Habaneros, it appears, is just right.

For the record, fresh minced sweet onions, four-chees Mexican grated cheese and a generous dollop of sour cream kept things under control when I got around to it. But wash your hands- and do not rub your eyes if the onions make you cry.

Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303