The subtitle of today’s piece is, “El Viaje Misterioso de Nuestro Evan”
This morning I awoke to the sounds of my uncle practicing his piano playing. He was playing Chopin or Schubert or something. My mother always tells me that he was a piano prodigy as a child, and used to perform in big concert halls. He played at the United Nations once during grade school. I’ve only heard him play a few times in my life, but he’s incredible. As I got dressed this morning in a pair of jeans and my finest chili boots, I watched an alligator swimming through the lagoon behind the house. It’s tail whipped back and forth as it glided through the water. Only some of the scales on its back, and two big black eyes were visible above the surface.
At about 11:00 my uncle and I hopped in the golf cart and headed for the main gate park area where the Chili Cook-off was being held. There were twenty-five restaurants and catering services vying for this year’s title. There were local news crews, and some famous chef who has a show on the food network was here, a blonde lady, I don’t know her name, she was dressed all in black and walking around sampling the chili. Much to my chagrin, no one was selling “Time for Chili” hats with little clocks on them.
Me, I’ve never had chili before, and have never really desired to taste it. Out of the 25 tables, I sampled probably 22 of them. They give you dixie cup sized portions, some skimpy and some overflowing, all of them unique in some way. I think after a few hours I pretty much could pick the nuances of each individual chili. I narrowed down my favorites to a handful, which included a restaurant/caterer called Barnes (whose chili was very meaty, mildly spicy with a strong after-taste), a restaurant called Sweet Potatoes (whose chili was very sweet and contained sweet potato chunks in lieu of beans), Moon River Brewery (whose very spicy chili, with a name like “five alarm chili,” won the 2003 competition) and Elizabeth’s (whose chili featured duck instead of turkey or beef).
The worst included local Mexican restaurant Jalapeno’s (whose chili looked a lot like a typical refried bean dish and tasted like any Mexican side dish) and Piggly Wiggly, whose chili was by far the most spicy, but also very bad. There was one booth that I will not embarrass by publishing their name, but their chili was most definitely a bland, timid entry, suitable, perhaps, for patients recovering from surgery. The only booths I did not sample were from chain restaurants. How good could their chili be, considering their regular food doesn’t taste good? There was no nerdy professor with a “Virtual Chili” booth.
The scene was pretty wild. There were scores of people young and old. There was an all male a cappella group (dressed like the Be Sharps) singing the canon, songs like “Sweet Adeline” and “Baby on Board” or whatever those old-timey songs are called. After I stomached as much as I could handle, I declared myself the Pope of chili town and left.
“Note to self: stop doing anything.”
When we got home, thoroughly stuffed and feeling in need of some sort of exercise, we decided to see if we could sneak onto one of the six golf courses this community is built around, to play a few holes. We ended up playing nine holes on a newly renovated course that just re-opened a few days ago. Although I haven’t stepped foot on a golf course since the age of fourteen, I hit a bucket of balls while at work last week and declared myself to be “in the best shape of my life.” Today I stunk, but had some stellar shots mixed in with the horse shit. On one par three, rated one of the hardest holes on any of the six courses, I popped a 5-iron off the tee, clearing the pond and the sand trap that surround the green, and landed my ball about 10 yards from the hole. It was probably the first time in my life I had a legitimate chance at a birdie, but, naturally, I three-putted my way to a bogey.
Some of the views from the course, especially the holes that are bordered by marshes, were beautiful. The sun was just starting to set as we were finishing our round, so we headed home. I had to go over to the new house to make sure the painters were finishing their job. There was a dead baby frog on the kitchen counter. I’m not entirely sure how it found its way inside, but one of the workers must’ve stepped on it as they were trodding through the house. I felt very bad for the baby frog, so I hid it in a shelf in the corner of the kitchen until I have the time to give Smooshy a proper burial. That’s right, I named my new dead frog I just found today Smooshy.
Rest in Peace, Smooshy!
Italian food for dinner tonight. Some baked tortellini and that was it. Now I’m working my way through a six pack of Red Hook ESB and flipping channels on the giant HDTV. I honestly have no idea what else I’m going to do here from now until I leave. I mean, after the chili cook-off what else is there that can blow my mind anymore than its already been blown?
PS – How many Simpsons references do you spy in this entry? Guess the correct amount and you could be the weiner!
