I don't know why...it's not like it's chilly out. But one whiff of my home, and you'll know, my crock pot is simmering chili. For the first time in 4 months, I've turned off the air conditioners altogether. I dumped diced tomatoes with green chili and a can of diced tomatoes with chili and onion in the crock. Then I put about 5 pounds of hamburg in there. Poured in some spicy hot V8 juice and sprinkled various seasonings in there. Then I torqued that baby up on high and let it bubble away.
Now, I was a fully confirmed believer that all meat should be pan-fried before put into the chili pot. But that was BEFORE. Before I met a rather disturbing (and disturbed) young man in Alabama. Of course, come to think of it, most all the folks I met right about then were disturb(ed/ing).
He had all this stuff lined up on his counter and I said, 'hey!! what are you doing??' as he put raw hamburg in the pot and dumped tomato sauce and puree over it. He glanced up at me and said with innocence, "what?" I said, "boy, who taught you how to cook?" He said, with perfect sincerity, "my momma's aunt."
Now, as anyone with half an ounce of brain in their heads can tell you; when it comes to southerners and their kinfolk, well, you just don't mess with them. So when he wanted to know why I asked, damned if I was gonna besmirch the memory of his great aunt. So, I said, "Ohhh, I's jest wondrin, cuz I've never seen it done like that before."
After he stared at me, with one eye squinted, for long enough to be sure I wasn't jacklegging him; he nodded his head as though that was THAT and chopped up an onion and through it in the pot and I just sat at the table and watched, drinking my sweet tea. It was done alot faster than I would have thought. Though I had images of botulism and undercooked hamburg, I braved a spoonful. He was ripping through his bowl, slurping the juices and cramming buttered white bread into his mouth. But ya know what? Since then, I've never made chili any other way. And it's always turned out just fine.
Shaddow and Ziggee are chasing and playing with each other. Ziggee grooms, much as a cat does, so I have to give him hairball medicine occassionally. Otherwise, well, it's just disgusting. They are so different, yet so much alike. They even groom each other. sigh.