So, late Monday night, Rick says “there’s a chili-off at work on Thursday, so I want chili stuff” (meaning chili makings to go on the Tuesday shopping list.) I say okay, then it hits me. As he wanders back by, I enquire as to whether he wants stuff to make chili, or he wants me to make *my* chili. “Oh, well, yeah, um, your chili is really, really good!” Mmmhmmm. The chili stuff is duly bought, and waking up late today and bleary-eyed, I start making chili before I’ve finished my tea. (This constitutes a great effing sacrifice on my part, mind.)
I’m one of those strange peoples who needs to slow cook their chili for around 6 hours or so. Fresh herbs, all the right spices, the just right wine, cooked out just so, yada, yada, yada. It’s not my chili without a metric efftonne of freshly ground cumin. I love cumin. I’d marry it. (Okay, not really.) Pre-ground cumin is something which should not be. Horrible, bad, a plague on kitchens everywhere. Normally, we have a very healthy amount of cumin seed in the spice cupboard. Not today! I open the jar, and find a scant layer of seed. No way this will do. The chili is already in the cooker, slowly heating up, the fragrance of chilis, basil, oregano, onions, and garlic is delicately weaving around my head. No cumin. This is a sorrow. Can’t have chili without it. Rick is now on his way to town for effing cumin seed. 110 miles round trip. I think perhaps I should see someone about my inability to make a proper grocery list these days. Aaargh. ETA: cumin seed has now been attained! Yay and much better!