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soupapalooza!

the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy
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Texas chili, part III: you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can never put beans or tomatoes in her Texas chili

Before we get too deep into some crazy yarn about my insane family or my lack of appropriate male companionship, and In the interest of full disclosure, I'm going to let you know right now that the only championship the following recipe has won is the championship of my own personal badassery. That said, it is an oversized-blue-ribbon-earning, imaginary-tickertape-parade-deserving, melt-in-your-mouth-meat-orgy-having delight. So there. And so what if it's the THIRD post about Texas chili in as many years? I think an appropriate yearly update of my evolving championship chili (tm) is totally worthy of some megabits or bytes or parcels or packets or whatever and you should totally give it a whirl if you give a crap at all about a real Texas tradition or if you just want something really, really, exceptionally good to make and freeze and have on hand for cold winter nights.

I feel like this may be the time to bring up an important relationship, and no, I'm not talking about the fun kind that results in breakfast and/ or coffee in bed (I'd like my eggs over easy with a side of crispy bacon and I take my coffee with half and half and a teaspoon of sugar, thank you). The very important relationship I'm talking about is the one you should make with your local butcher. I know many of us rely upon the packaged meat section at Ralph's or Safeway or Whole Foods because of the convenience, and I'm not trying to get all preachy or anything, but you really should consider identifying and then patronizing a local butcher. Yes, it's an additional stop and it may be out of the way and possibly even slightly more expensive, but I think it's healthier and more responsible to keep things as local as possible. I also think it's important to acknowledge that you're eating an animal, something that was previously alive and it should've been treated humanely. Not just because you care about that animal necessarily, but because it's healthier to eat animals that are treated humanely and are not fed antibiotics and hormones. As Americans our diets are overloaded with animal protein as it is-- we could all eat a little less of it. And if we're eating slightly less, our pocketbooks can take the slightly more expensive price tag along with the higher quality meat, right?

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PostedNovember 28, 2012
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagsrecipe, spice station silverlake, surfas, chipotle, huntington meats, butcher, smoky, bossypants, Texas chili, unabashed carnivore, stock, soupapalooza!, mccall's meat and fish, suet, lindy & grundy
3 CommentsPost a comment

texas chili and chipotle deviled eggs: it's my 39th birthday and I'll cry if I want to

So one day you’re just walking along, making fun of your friends for their freaking out about turning forty (I mean, really, what’s the big deal, it’s a DAY), checking out the birds in the sky (my how they sing!), when BAM!!! You fall into the great pothole that NO ONE warns you about-- yes, the Great Pothole that is your 39th Birthday. 

I’ve never really had trouble with my birthday. OK, that’s a blatant LIE. I have an ill-timed anniversary of my arrival: close enough to the holidays that it usually warrants one gift for both occasions, but far enough away that excitement has turned into foundering and bills have arrived. Everyone always at least pretends that they’ll be totally up for a celebration, but are in actuality usually too exhausted and spent four days into the new year to actually show up. It sucks. And I vociferously complain about it every year to any (and every) willing pair of ears.

But the idea of getting older has never much bothered me. Turning 30 was a breeze-- I was thrilled to say goodbye to my reckless and chaotic twenties and have never much looked back except to wonder why I couldn’t accept at that time that my ass and my face were the best they’d ever be. Now THAT was a waste of a decade. But I digress. I never saw the great existential crisis of 39 coming.

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PostedJanuary 25, 2011
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagsrecipe, chipotle, sunday birthday sunday, eggcellent, pigs in a blanket, soup, the great pothole of 39, Texas chili, panic button, soupapalooza!, honey and sage cornbread, suet, bourbon banana pudding
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goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

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