DON’T FEAR THE REAPER (PEPPER)
It may surprise you as much as it surprises me, but I’ve never been to a chili cook-off until quite recently. I love chili. I make several pots of it each year. When I see it on a restaurant’s menu, I pretty much must order it. I’ve had great chili. I’ve had terrible chili. But cook-offs just weren’t in the cards for me.
Until now.
Cindy bought a couple of tickets to the Sertoma Chili Cook Off and gave them to me and Josh (a fellow chili connoisseur). Josh, like me, knows chili the way sommelier’s know wine. Or so we like to believe. Together, we discussed battle plans to crash the cook-off and storm the samples like vikings in search of plunder.
The very first chili we tried, offered up by a auto body shop, was delightful. In fact, it was my favorite chili of the day. It was so good, in fact, I’m a little disappointed that it was the inaugural sample. As Carly Simon might say, it made me feel bad for the rest. After I tried it, I glanced at Josh and, doing my best impression of a person with a refined palate, asked:
“Is there cumin in this?”
Josh blinked. Then stared at the cup of chili. Then at me.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Is there cumin in the chili?”
“Oh!” Relief flooded across Josh’s face. “I thought you asked if there was human in the chili!”
Which set a weird kind of tone for the rest of the day.
Because once you’ve accidentally framed a chili cook-off as a possible cannibal tribunal, everything else clicks into place.
As the morning wore on, as more samples were consumed, Josh and I roamed the exhibit hall, meeting the business owners and organization leaders who had brought chili to share. Bars. Restaurants. Fast food chains. The fire department. The police department. The Boys and Girls Club. Numerous area charities. It was a lively, friendly time, and Josh and I started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—the Midnight Lantern Foundation should enter the cook-off the next time it rolled around.
But was it the right fit?
The charitable nature of the Foundation works, of course, but what about our focus on horror and fantasy and science fiction?
My horrible mind, though, was trained on dot-to-dot books purchased on the cheap at five-and-dimes.
You see, horror and chili go hand-in-hand.
Who among us hasn’t feasted upon a gigantic bowl of ground beef and crushed tomatoes and sliced peppers while watching a slasher movie where some poor victim was mulched into something resembling chili?
What’s Halloween—the spookiest night of the year—without chili? It’s the stuff of an autumnal ritual. Kids haunting the streets in masks. The air smells like wet leaves and cold concrete. You come home with numb fingers and a bag of questionable candy, and there’s a pot on the stove. Bubbling. Red. Thick. Steaming like a witch’s cauldron.
And is it just me or has chili gotten a bit meaner of late?
Ghost peppers. Carolina Reapers. Trinidad Moruga Scorpions. Dragon’s Breath. Pepper-X. Peppers named like things that go bump in the dark, things that follow you like a curse, things that sting and poison, things that should have starring roles in kaiju movies.
The Scoville Scale challenges us. It dares us not to flinch.
Don’t fear the reaper.
Eat it!
Of course, chili shows up in horror movies from time to time.
In The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Part 2, the Sawyer secret recipe wins the Oklahoma/Texas chili cook-off because they never “shirk on the meat”. The meat, as we can surmise, is the secret ingredient, and when a judge bites down on a tooth that found its way into the mix, it is dismissed as a peppercorn.
The Texas Chili Parlor was featured heavily in Death Proof.
There’s an extended scene in Curse of Chucky where the evil doll contaminates a random bowl of chili. While the potential victims eat, the viewer sweats it out over who is going to get a mouthful of rat poison.
I’m sure there are other chili references in plenty of horror tales.
And why not?
Slow-simmered. Built on secret ingredients. Thick enough to hide anything. Associated with comfort and trust… unless someone slipped a vampire pepper into the mix.
Sounds like something from a horror story to me!
Good chili lingers with you.
So does a terrifying nightmare.
Good chili develops over time.
So does dread.
And, so, maybe a chili cook-off is in the future for The Midnight Lantern Foundation. And here are my suggestions for our chili offerings that might honor our horror, fantasy, and sci-fi roots. (Josh suggested that Midnight Lantern chili should be pitch black, so I’ll try to keep his suggestion in mind.)
Arctic Assimilation Chili (inspired by The Thing) - a white chili with chicken. A heat level that creeps up on you. Mankind is the warmest place to hide. You should have heeded the warning to prepare your own meal.
Xenomorphic Blackout Chili (inspired by Alien) - Jet-black beans. Burnt ends. Charred peppers. A heat level that spikes just when you think you’re gonna be ok. No cheese, no comfort. In the chili cook-off, no one can hear you scream.
Lord of Darkness Chili (inspired by Legend) - Cinnamon, dark chocolate shavings, mole-style. Is there unicorn in this? There may never be another dawn.
Snurre’s Feast Chili (inspired by D&D’s Hall of the Fire Giant King) - Heavy. Thick. Meat pulled from short ribs. Fire-roasted tomatoes. A heat level that can only be described as volcanic. Make a constitution save.
Master Control Program Chili (inspired by Tron) - White chili with black beans and bright green peppers. Served with blue corn chips. The thing about perfection is that it's unknowable. It's impossible, but it's also right in front of us all the time.
So yes, maybe next year The Midnight Lantern Foundation shows up with a black-as-midnight pot. Maybe we ladle out bowls named for fire giants and xenomorphs and errant computer programs.
Maybe someone asks, cautiously, “Is there cumin in this?”
Maybe we just smile and say, “Try it and see.”
And, after they take a bite, we say, “Wait… did you say human?”
We won’t shirk the meat, promise.
After all, the best stories, like the best chili, are meant to be shared.
If there’s a little burn along the way?
Even better.
