Earlier this week, Michael entered a chili cook-off at his office — a friendly fundraiser where coworkers bring their best bowls, and everyone casts a vote with their spoons.
Michael had a vision: a deeply flavorful, slow-cooked chili with smoked meat, beans soaked overnight, and New Mexico chiles we’d tucked into our suitcase from a recent trip.
He prepped. He chopped. He smoked. He simmered.
And then… he tasted it.
The meat was chewy. You couldn’t taste the smoke. The flavors hadn’t blended. And his face dropped.
“This isn’t what I imagined.”
He was frustrated, disappointed, and by the time dinner ended and his bowl empty, he was mad at the chili, and himself. All that effort, and it wasn’t right. I tried to talk him down, reminding him how much heart went into it — how generous it was to show up, cook, and feed his colleagues. But sometimes, you just need to sit in your chili grief for a bit.
So he did.
Then, with a little time and distance from everyone (I decided it was best to retreat to another room), he diced the meat more finely and reheated the pot.
The next day, he reluctantly sampled his chili after adding it to the line-up. He discovered the flavors opened up overnight. The smoke came through. And wouldn’t you know… it won second place.
But here’s the thing:
Even if it hadn’t won, the lessons lingered, like the slow, spicy bite of red Chimayó chile. Because the point was never perfection. It was nourishment.Community. Generosity. Effort.
That’s always the purpose of cooking as a Kitchen Activist.
And how often do we stop ourselves from cooking because we’re afraid it won’t turn out like the photo?
Or like the memory?
Or like that one time we nailed it?
Our meals don’t need to be extraordinary or complex to matter. They just need to be made. Shared. Loved.
Today, I’d like to offer you one of our favorite chili recipes, the one Michael used to make before he got an electric smoker for Father’s Day. It’s a flexible, hearty bowl you can make with tempeh or meat. It’s tucked into the Beer and Water chapter of EAT LESS WATER, and it wins prizes where it matters most: your own home kitchen and the ecosystems that benefit when we choose our ingredients with care.
Find it in your copy of EAT LESS WATER at the end of the Beer and Water chapter.
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