This week, Mr. Cusp's old friend, a writer like Mr. Cusp, was visiting our area to give some readings. The reading I went to was in a bar in the western part of the state, somewhere between the last shreds of farm country, collegeland, and tourism-funded New Englandland.
It was packed. Half locals, half people who'd traveled to see Mr. Cusp's friend and the other poets. It was rowdy and lowd and friendly, and I am beginning to think that any cultural divide can be, if not bridged, muddled, by lager, pilsner, or stout, along with good will and cursing. There was an abundance of all five factors present.
As a houseguest, Mr. Cusp's friend was prime - I was able to indulge one of my favorite hobbies: making cornbread and being praised for making cornbread. Along with the cornbread, we served chili. Here's the recipe - I'm calling it:
Dissed Associate's Home for Wayward Poets and Loose Women Steak Chili.
1 large tough, cheap-ass steak.
1 can cola.
1 large can, black beans.
1 large can, crushed tomatoes.
2 handfuls of tortilla chips, crushed.
8 oz linguica
2 onions, sliced
1 cup, mixed bell pepper strips (I used frozen)
Hot sauce to taste.
Garlic.
Cumin.
Salt.
Smoked paprika.
There is no black pepper. I fucking HATE black pepper. In a large dutch oven, sear the steak on both sides, pour the cola over it. Before you did that, you probably should have preheated the oven to 300 degrees. Sorry. Now you'll have to wait.
Once you have your oven to the right temp., put a lid on the dutch oven and put the oven in the oven.
Cut the sausage into itsy pieces. Put it in the bottom of a large pot with the onions and a touch of oil. Cook until the onions go soft, then add the garlic. Then, after the garlic has had a moment, add beans, tomatoes, and peppers. Allow everything to cook together for a bit, then season to taste with hot sauce (or chili powder - but I like hot sauce), salt, cumin, and smoked paprika.
Let the steak cook in the oven for at least an hour and a half, until you can just shred it with a fork, then add to the chili. Finally, add the corn chips and simmer until the juices thicken.
Congratulations - you've made dinner for six dollars, at the most. It'll feed at least six, more if you make cornbread. Your cornbread, however, will not be as good as my cornbread.


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Comments
But, as I say, it sounds tasty nevertheless--and cornbread is an excellent companion. I like mine with a touch of finely chopped jalepeno in it.