My Chili Recipe (An Ars Poetica)
I. Whatcha Need
the river
3 pounds ground beef
the passing of the dead on the banks of what remains
4 Tbsp. minced garlic
a galloping sound
2 diced green peppers
the sound of a violin being shattered by a perfectionist on the verge of quitting
1 diced onion
the wind, humming half-drunkenly
1 16oz. can red kidney beans
the song of nuns calming children during a hurricane
1 beer
the four seasons
1 16oz. can pinto beans
a mouth full of vowels and air
6 bay leaves
every ache in your body
2 16oz. cans of corn
thee and thou and thy and the way all three make your tongue feel under your teeth
3 tsp. salt
Agamemnon’s last cry and the sound of his spear whistling in the Trojan wind
3 Tbsp. sugar
the long process of two people becoming a couple
1 Tbsp. chili powder
the words you need when you’re untethered from yourself
3 Tbsp. Dale’s seasoning sauce
the sound of that violinist trying again
2 15oz. cans diced tomatoes
the words that bring the world back when it’s floating away like a helium balloon
1 tsp. black pepper
waking up taking up too much space breaking up making up
1 8oz. can tomato sauce
the odor of the Library of Alexandria burning
2 Tbsp. vinegar
the prayer of a dying man, veiled in anagrams
3 serrano peppers
all of your sorrows
II. Whatcha Do
Begin with the river. Brown beef and memories of the dead with garlic, green peppers, the heartsong of the near-shattered violinist, and onion. Love the world the way a horse’s spirit gallops in its body. Add the whistles of wind, the nunsong, the mouthfuls of air and vowels, the thee and the thy and the thou, the ache of human pangs, the spear shivering in midair, the long process of becoming a couple, the words you need to bring yourself back to yourself. Add Dale’s after draining grease. Add heat and ingredients, starting with seasonings. Add the seasons. Sprinkle in sighs and songs, the sound of the violin trying again, the words you need to bring the world back to the world. Slowly bring to boil. Add beer and beans, the tide, corn, tomatoes, and tomato sauce. Add bay leaves and breakups followed by makeups. Put all of your sorrows into the anagrammed prayer and leave them there to simmer. Cook over med/low heat for two hours, stirring occasionally.
21 thoughts on "My Chili Recipe (An Ars Poetica)"
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I love love this …..the humor is spot on and the recipe is wonderful.
I’m gonna riff on this
It’s great.
Thank you !
Thanks Coleman! That was quick.
Love this. The juxtapositioning is so effective.
Thanks Karen.
you also need a cold day
this wouldn’t be it
True. Say indoors and safe.
Very creative juxtaposition, enjoyed reading this!
THIS IS AMAZING!!!! I’m just seriously so tickled and inspired by this. I can’t decide what’s working best… but some of my favs:
1. Whatcha Do / Whatcha Need …LOVE
2. “Add the seasons.” Yes! So wild.
3. the nunsong really works as an image and a sound
4. “Add bay leaves and breakups followed by makeups” is yummy.
5. “the long process of two people becoming a couple” is spot on.
6. “Brown beef and memories of the dead” sets up the second section perfectly. It reminds me of walking toward Hades.
Ok. I’m basically retyping your poem in the comments. Well done! I gotta make that chili now.
Much appreciated, Emily!
I like how you set up the two parts.
I have seriously not listened to my food enough! I think if all my recipes sounded like this, I would cook more.
LOL. I sat down to write a poem, and my chili recipe was on the screen, so I just used it as a first draft.
Poetic cookbook in the making?
I would buy that book
I love this poem in concept and execution
Wow what a poem. “Love the world the way a horse’s spirit gallops in its body” is only one of many favorite lines. As a poet/chef friend says: eat this poem.
I feel fed. You whipped that up like you remembered it it all! Excellent.
I was on the edge of my chair moving closer and closer to the computer screen to read every word! This was really amazing to read and I love your blends of ingredients as well as “Whatcha do”. So much there. Thank you !
This is downright amazing.
It reminds of a line from a song called “Slow Food” that singer Greg Brown used to sing on A Prairie Home Companion: “I’d like my food to know itself/Before it knows my mouth.”
That’s what your chili does for the reader.
Love the creativity! I’ve read recipe poems before, but not like this one!
This is gorgeous!