Free Entry Week 2

This is my rough draft on the cooking prompt given to us at the beginning of the week. I was actually really surprised by where my writing took me this time.It's not finished at the moment, but this is what I have so far. It's very loosely based on fact, but it turned out to be more of faction piece. Here goes nothing!

My husband loves my chili. Spit hugs the corners of his mouth when he walks through the door. He smells the beans and deer meat he killed swirling together in the pot. Even if I already shook in the spices, he always throws in a few more pinches of Cayenne pepper. The heat causes my nose to wrinkle. I don’t like my food to take off layers of taste buds, but I’ve learned to chase each spoonful with milk even after I add cheese and fritos to my portion. This routine defines my chili experience.

            My father’s philosophy on chili still remains, “If I’m not sweating, I’m not happy.” It’s a wonder he has any taste sensation left. I married a male with the same values. Back when we first were dating, chili time became discussion time between the two. During this time, Gary would sometimes get up and reach into the fridge or spice cabinet if my dad asked him to grab something. Then he would go back to his chosen chair and continue with whatever topic they were discussing at that point. Considering the chili contained meat from my father’s hunting trips, it was usually about hunting. There was no point in watching my father’s methods while he cooked because it changed every time. I still did anyway. I don’t hunt so I didn’t have much to add to the conversation. It was just nice watching my dad and future husband talk while in the kitchen together. Even though every time I make the chili my nose wrinkles, my heart melts like the spice into the pot.