Chili and other good ideas

Yesterday afternoon was spent on the Making of the Firefighter Chili. Here's where the recipe is to be found

They give the recipe for a huge crowd, hence the men stirring a  vat, but they do give a column for the family size, too

And here are the spices, looking and smelling wonderful, right before they joined the onions and garlic and ground turkey then tomato paste in the pot. After this the tomatoes and the broth and they use cornmeal, I use chickpea flour, for thickening.

This recipe is really a journey of scents and textures. It takes a couple of hours, start to bowl, and makes about six big helpings.

Scallions and grated cheddar on top. It's a great recipe, very recommended. It's hot, and I sneeze and tear up and thoroughly enjoy it. 

 The mail brought this nice material from the Arbor Day people, with questionnaire about trees and prizes. 

Yes, it's a fundraiser.  I think the foundation may be past its day now, what with HOAs and cities making tree decisions, however you see I did use the bookmark right away in my WCK cookbook. I think bookmarks too are a bit of a relic, though I have quite a few.

And since I recently tossed out the squirrels'  favorite, butternut squash seeds, it was only a short time before they showed up to fight over them, this one playing King of the hill

While I'm waiting for Yellowface, another library selection came in, which I confused with another writer, thanks, Sue.

This one stunned me by opening in a location a few miles from here, at a Jewish funeral, before moving to Manhattan, Brooklyn and Ithaca in the course of the narrative. 

The central figures, officially narrated by a fourth, later child, but really an omniscient narrator,  are in vitro triplets from a wealthy family.  They feel no connection with each other, attributing it, dubiously, I think, to their petri dish start. There's their wildly wealthy art collector father,  and complications of Cornell, (hence Ithaca, for non American readers, its location), sexual orientation,  infidelity, issues of art as experience and as commodity, and wait,  there's more.. 

Paintings also show up as characters, by Brice Marsden, Cy Twombly and others of the time, real ones in the fictional collection, with roles in the story. There's also what used to be known snobbishly as Outsider Art, understood by the collector,  but seen as puzzling lucrative commodities by the art world's insider dealers and agents. 

It's the art of untrained people, often with religious significance, sometimes in the throes of mental illness, often stunning in effect, but there's the, well grounded, I think, fear of artist exploitation by the art establishment.  Anyway this book has a lot to say,  in an accessible, unselfconscious style, and I'm finding it gripping. Its narrative is full of real toads in imaginary gardens.

Since New Year's Eve is almost upon us, when we're all supposed to wear hats, blow horns and generally get all partied up, or feel envious/guilty if we don't,  I thought you'd like this absolution

Simple pleasures for simple folk. Happy day,  everyone, enjoy the weekend with your version of reading, food, or hats and horns.