Every so often, the old Chef does do some cooking that doesn’t include the meat of well-tenderized hobos. However, the Chef’s cooking does (according to the Maitre d’) always include booze. That’s because alcohol is the one and only sign that God, in His infinite assholeness, wants us to momentarily be less than miserable. This might be why I tend to include it in what few recipes I know.
This, of course, would be one of those recipes (both the "few" and the "containing booze"). As has probably been made obvious before, the Chef has something of a weak spot for spicy foods, and an even bigger weakness for spicy chili. Adam Savage says he like to live his life as one part action hero and one part cartoon character. Personally, I like to live my life as one part Adam Savage and one part Adam Richman. It’s my mission to seek out new life and new civ- no, wait. That’s those goons on the Enterprise. It’s my mission to seek out the hottest shit imaginable and eat it, regardless of what it does to my bowels (being that I’m getting old, I should not eat like I do, but I do it anyway). Heaven help those who use the bathroom after me.
Naturally, when a big bag of peppers from the garden of our local Lions Club president fell into my lap, I was overjoyed. Not only were there large and beautiful jalapenos, but something even better: a plethora of Scotch Bonnets. Or at least I think they’re Scotch Bonnets; they may be regular habaneros, but their tendency to eat haggis and play tiny bagpipes makes me think otherwise.
Also naturally, I set out to find something to do with my spicy little friends. Being that habaneros have a citrus-like flavor, I thought pairing them with a tequila-lime chili would be a good fit. So I did a little research and found a couple of recipes (one a habanero chili, the other a tequila-lime one) and merged the two together into the unholiest Frankenfood ever to scorch a person’s colon.
Make no mistake, boys and girls: this chili is spicy. If you can’t handle a bit of heat and sweetness, you’d best move on and get you a hot cup of meat juice from Wendy’s (fast-food chili is interminably bland, though). Also, this does contain a heaping helping of tequila, so there’s a fair bit of the alkie left in it. If you’ve got friends who’re recovering alcoholics, you’d best keep them away from this or they might fall off of the wagon.
Without further ado:
The Chef’s Tequila Lime Habanero Chili of DEATH
Brown ground beef. Remove the stems and seeds from the peppers (unless you want things inside you to go explodey). Peel and chop the limes into small pieces – they will go into the chili. Be sure to save as much of the lime juice as possible to go into the chili as well. Combine all ingredients (except the cheese) in a big honkin’ pot or crock and simmer for at least an hour before serving, to let the flavors mingle. My favorite method is to leave the whole deal in the crock for a few hours and let the peppers and limes really seep into everything. The tequila should cook off partially, but remember that alcohol is never really gone completely. I find that sharp cheese on top makes a perfect counterpoint to the fruity acidity of the chili, but that’s up to you.
There it is. Try it at your own risk. Oh, and for the record, the Matire d’ will eat it. And he likes it.