Confession

I am a firm believer in strengthening the immune system. To that end, I regularly feed my family foods that are, shall we say, less than fresh*? Bacterias attack the healthy body, white blood cells are generated, they attack back, voila! Stronger body, better prepared to fight the next enemy that comes along. I grew up with the proverb, "when in doubt, throw it out," but that seems so darn wasteful. So I've modified it a little to say, "when in very strong doubt, put it in the freezer and wait until you've forgotten it might have been bad."

So sometimes the meat is a little green--how bad can it be? The local grocery store sells it all the time at a low, low prices, and they wouldn't sell it if it was going to hurt someone, would they?

And once in a while the veggies have to have a little slime trimmed/rinsed off before serving, but it's not like I make people eat the slime, so no harm done. We don't want to waste food. It's not like it grows on trees. Actually, a lot of it does grow on trees, but you get my meaning.

Sometimes before eating, I ask daltonboy to pick someone who is really going to do a good job with the prayer. Other times I keep my peace, and then when they tell me it was really good, I mutter something about how I hope it doesn't kill them. I have been known to get up in the middle of the night after serving an especially iffy chicken to check and see if everyone is still breathing. I live with the guilt, because guilt is free. Ground beef ain't.

Tonight I may have made a fatal mistake, however. Pushed the envelope a little too far. Flirted with death one too many times. I made chili. The meat had been frozen when it was still fresh, so that wasn't the problem. I used bottled tomatoes that I preserved myself. The seal was good. Fresh onion (nothing black growing between the layers), fresh garlic, lovely chilis, good spices . . . but when I opened the Great Northern beans, I admit to you that I had doubts. I thought I saw something black in there. I tilted the can. Hmm. Must have been a trick of the light. I looked again. Nothing black, but the beans' little eyes, or whatever that thing is on the side where the sprout comes out looked sort of pink. That was weird, but the smell test checked out. Taste test . . . probably checked out. I don't know what they are supposed to taste like plain, but they weren't rancid tasting or anything. Perhaps slightly bitter, but that's probably about right for a Great Northern. Just to be sure, I opened another can. It looked similar. And what are the odds that both cans would contain botulism? Slim, baby. Slim. I dumped them both in. I snatched the bean that was half black out of the pot and threw it away. Then I simmered it an extra long time just in case. I know simmering kills a ton of bad stuff.

The chili was quite tasty. After dinner the kids all said how good it was. Then I told them that there was a pretty good chance that their father would never see them alive again (he comes home from Norway tomorrow night). They took it well. They're used to it. But now my tongue feels kind of numb, and there's something crawling around in my intestines that isn't very happy.

If we live, I'm going to call it "Killer Chili," and I'll post the recipe for you. Better yet, I'll make a huge pot and invite you all over to share it! If not, well, I'm still going to call it "Killer Chili." The recipe might have to wait until we meet again.

*To those of you who have dined at my house, I promise I almost never do this when company is coming.