White Hot Porking...Adventures in Chili

I want to win something.  Anything.  And I want to do it without putting in much work or having much talent, and I want to beat nice people who are talented and hard-working.  I want to win just because I'm me, because the Universe has gazed objectively upon all of Creation and finds me dazzling, or at least competent, or at least pathetic enough to indulge.  I don't care. I just want to win.

So when I heard vague news of a FHSNA (Federal Hill South Neighborhood Association, although "neighborhood" should be in irony quotes, oh snap!) chili cook-off taking place south of CROSS STREET I thought, oh yes, I'm going to kill this despite never having made a decent chili in my life.  If I can get the courage to venture that far south of East Monty, I'm going to take that trophy from that befuddled granny and display it right in the heart of FHNA (Federal Hill Neighborhood Association) territory.

How do you win a field you have no experience in? You stand on the shoulders of giants, and you ride their coattails.

The Crue

Tara signed on right away but Alas! she also didn't know how to make chili.  Luckily, her friend Crystal had surreptitiously confiscated an award-winning family recipe from a certain boy - we were a trio oozing magic, Crystal with her "actual recipe" and "required ingredients," Tara with her "Kirk Gravy Technique" and me with "the wine."

Our chili was a creamy roux-based green chili, packed with slow-cooked pork, green chiles and jalapenos.  It looked like condensed mushroom soup but tasted amazing, at least I think it did because I was drunk on "the wine."

We figured we'd be one of 5 random people catering to 20 chain-smoking grandmas in a bingo hall.  Wow. Were we ever so so wrong.

Packed. And Everyone Had Their Teeth.

  We arrived 30 minutes early to find most stations already taken with chefs guarding bubbling crock pots and laying out crowd-pandering special accompaniments - thin dark chocolate slices, freshly made guacamole, Cheez Wiz. We looked at our own crock pot was full of stone-cold porridge. We frowned.

And then we found out the nice man sitting next to us was the head chef at Baba's Restaurant. And that 2 cooks from Bluegrass Tavern and Chef Lovelace were across the aisle.  We were out of our league and we knew it.

Smelling our weakness, a nice old lady from the table next to us gave us some guidance.

"What are you calling your chili, my dears?" she whispered, all gingerbread and lace.

"We haven't decided yet, but it's mostly pork and green chiles," we said in our most disarming voice.

"Well you'd better not name it Hot Porky because that's mine and I will fucking cut you little bitches*," she growled out of nowhere before offering a powdery smile and walking back to her seat.

(*that might not be an exact quote)

After she was out of earshot and knife-range, Greg quietly suggested we name it "Better Than Hot Porky" while I proffered "White Hot Porking" because, after all, it was a white chili.  

"How about "Whiter Than Mitt Romney White Chili?" said Greg, before quickly amending it, "How about "Whiter Than Mitt Fucking Romney White Chili?"

"I love it. Let's do it." I grabbed the marker and began.

"NOOOOO!!!!" shouted Greg in slow motion. "That's a bad idea."

We eventually settled on "White Lightning, Green Chili." 

The Crue with a real chef...unfair!

With that problem solved, Fate immediately slapped us back down in the form of a power outage.  Greg and Crystal carried the crockpot across the room and under a table to access some live juice.  Power returned shortly but the clock was ticking - people were already lining up and our chili wouldn't be fit to eat for another 30 minutes (although we started serving it after 15). 

Selling it the Mean Girl way

Tara and I had the first shift of chili-doling and although slightly shy and self-effacing at the beginning, by the time we handed off the torch we were selling it like Wells St professionals.

"This is a Mexican-style chili!  It's an old family recipe! (I pointed to my ethnic face) It has chiles verdes, marinated jalapenos, a touch of ancho and uses a pork base - it's a lot creamier and smoother than American chili,"  I said, exaggerating the Spanish words.

"Wonderful! I heard it was good!" replied the polite customers.

"Well you heard wrong. It's not good, it's AMAZING!" said Tara in a tone you wouldn't disagree with.

We sold it.  And when our shift was up, we went around the room schmoozing judges and attendees.  Again, like a Wells St professional, we sold it and we sold it some more.

Romney Mexicans...but SO much nicer!

Crytal and Greg had a different (honest) approach.  They didn't claim to be "Romney Mexicans," but rather smiled and joked and just behaved like the lovely people they are.  I was really proud when Crystal insinuated that the old family recipe had been part of the family from time immemorial and had crossed the Rio Grande in a covered wagon from Mexico.  I wish I had thought of that!

I was very grateful to our friends Michael & Chris Howarth and Tracey Schutty for voting for us as well as being super-fun company, excellent people and heroic Americans.  I am eternally non-grateful to non-friend Phil Schutty who voted for Chick Chili which sucked.

Waiting Hoping Wishing

Well, our chili turned out to be so popular - and we so generous - that we ran out 30 minutes before they announced the winners.  

We didn't win the Judge's Choice, which went to a cook at Bluegrass who grew the produce and 15 kinds of peppers in his backyard.  We didn't begrudge him, though, because his chili was crazy-awesome.

I have to say that I personally at least was a little pissed off when they announced the People's Choice.  And the winner was....HOT PORKY!?!?!  REALLY? That sounds like a porn title, and *not* a classy one.

7th Place (Not Bad Out of 20-something)