So I went to my first chili cook-off last week.
I ate 25 little cups with varying degrees of spice and meat assemblage including beef, turkey, duck (I think), wild boar, venison, and lamb (I also think). The evening was genius and concluded with a very restless night’s sleep and bubble guts that spilled over into the next day. Was it worth it? Yes! But in retrospect, there was no need for seconds—that was just foolish.
[Many of the finest dining establishments in Manchester brought chili to the contest, held at the Equinox Resort. Local schools, clubs, and organizations made a damn good showing too—especially the kids at the Long Trail School.]
I am disappointed to report that I avoided the ‘Radioactive Extra Spicy Chili’. Although I was too wimpy to put a spoon to it, I did appreciate the calf birthing gloves, which were groovy, strangely symbolic, and hopefully fresh:
Our friends from Smokin’ Bowls entered a mean BBQ version—Cheech & Chong chili. [Of course!]
[Carey was a confused judge. A heart on her score sheet indicated a possible favorite—a simple and effective approach. But, we were almost through the lot before I questioned her decision to pencil a heart next to every entry.]
[I was drinking this beer, even though the picture looks suspiciously staged.]
Congrats to the winner, The Perfect Wife, and to my friends at the Williams Store for a solid 3rd place.