This is my third Mother’s Day without my mother. She passed away quite suddenly one Sunday morning in March of 2017. (I am a bit of a reluctant expert at grief, having already lost my father at age 23. I’m a little too old for the word ‘orphan,’ but I don’t know another word for being parentless.)
I could say a lot about my mom and our relationship, but that would be a really long read, and, presumably, you came here for food. So I’ll tell you this about my mom:
The woman made a mean pot of chili.
I should go back to the part where I decided, one random Sunday night in 1989, that I wasn’t going to eat meat anymore. Mom was actually really supportive; probably more than most moms of 13-year-old rebels would have been.
Mom even began making some of my favorite things without the meat. She would later tell me that she thought my vegetarianism was “just a phase,” and she was basically humoring me. She was right — it was a ‘phase’ on my way to vegan. (Eventually, the day would come when Mom gave up meat herself. But I digress.)
The chili.
Onions and bell peppers sauteeing first; cooked until the onions are translucent and the peppers are mostly tender. (I used different colors for visual interest, but Mom’s version would have been just green.)
Kidney beans, of course. I used light and dark, because it’s what I had. (I cannot even look at kidney beans without thinking of my mother. It’s just one of those things.)
Tomatoes, diced, tomato paste from a can, chili powder and cayenne.
Don’t forget the Bay leaf!
Mom always served this with white rice. I don’t cook with white rice, though I will eat it if it’s served to me. So I put mine over brown rice instead.
My version is passable, but it doesn’t taste like Mom’s. I feel like it’s missing something. Did I forget an ingredient? This was not a recipe that was ever really written out; I’m working from memory.
Call your mom. Tell her you love her. Then ask her to write down your favorite recipe.
