Day 23: Chili, Super Bowl Chili

Late in the 2005 season, things weren't looking good for the Pittsburgh Steelers: they hadn't yet clinched a playoff spot, and darker still, it looked as though Jerome Bettis was going to have to retire without a Super Bowl ring. What could a displaced Steelers fan in Texas do? "Well, we're going to eat chili," I told my friend RT. "We're going to eat chili, and they're going to win." So I made chili, and the Steelers beat the Lions at Pittsburgh, clinching a playoff berth. I made chili, and the Steelers beat the Bengals. The next week, I made chili, and the Steelers beat the Colts, despite Bettis' famous goal line fumble. A week later, I made chili and the Steelers beat the Broncos. I made chili, and the Steelers won the Super Bowl. That year was so unlikely that, instead of becoming a tradition, the chili retired--Bettis got his ring, the Steelers won their fifth Super Bowl, and all was right with the world. And since then the Steelers have won another Super Bowl, without the help of these magic beans. Yet, after a five-year retirement, the chili's back. Why? Well, I think the chili wants to prove a few things, mainly that its performance in the 2005 playoffs was anything but a fluke. Also, I think the chili was concerned. Sunday, you see, was the late Myron Cope's birthday, and the thought of the Steelers losing on such a sacred date was too much. So the chili's back, poised to strike.

About the chili: Like Dick LeBeau-designed blitzes, no two chilies are alike. With that said, I generally use the following process, tweaking it however the situation demands. First, I cook about two pounds of ground meat (usually sausage) in a large soup pot. Once the meat is brown, I add about two onions, cook them until they're soft, and then add ground cumin, various chili powders, and pinches of several spices. Five minutes after the spice, I add a bottle or two of beer to deglaze the pan, and then I add a can of tomatoes, some tomato paste, and four to six cups of beans. Since Sunday was a big game, I used reconstituted dry beans that Chelsea had prepared that morning.

Sunday's chili was perhaps the spiciest I've ever made. To balance the flavors out a bit, before sitting down to watch the game we added a healthy dollop of sour cream and copious amounts of cheddar cheese to our bowls. Chelsea also made some cornbread, over which we served the chili. We chowed down, and the Steelers went ahead by twenty-four points in the first half. But I made a slight mistake. The chili was so spicy I decided to rest my GI tract and did not have another helping during the second half. This, I'm convinced, allowed the Jets to score nineteen unanswered points. Luckily, though, the Steelers somehow hung on, leaving me to suffer heartburn instead of heartache. In two weeks they play the Packers in the Super Bowl. I'm sorry to say it, but cheese most likely will be barred from that game's chili.