Spicy Lamb and White Bean Chili

Chili never wins any beauty contests. This week I was still attracted to this recipe from the New York Times. It's easy to find mince lamb in England and I do love beans--in this instance, I used a mixture of butter, haricot, and cannellini beans. Poblano peppers, on the other hand, are not something you can find even in the most exotic supermarket in the UK. I modified the peppers in the recipe to include a bell pepper (to replace the poblano), a green chilli, and a small piece of Scotch bonnet (chopped as tiny as you dare to imagine.)

I also believe that good chili has depth of flavour. To bring that out, I added 2 Tbsp of white wine vinegar at the beginning and the juice of half a lime just before serving. The importance of the lime, coriander, and yogurt for this recipe cannot be overstated. The yogurt in particular does not diminish the spice so much as spread it out evenly along your palate.

As for preparation, I made mine a day in advance and refrigerated it in my dutch oven until I was ready to serve it. Chili only gets better the longer the ingredients get to know each other.

Rice & Peas: A Teetotaler's Liquor

There is absolutely no reason to post a recipe for such a simple concoction.

My grandfather was a consummate Teetotaler. From time to time however, he would sit back in his chair and wax eloquent about the joys of 'pot liquor.' Although I am told that in traditional parlance this refers to the liquid in the pot after cooking a mess of greens (collard or otherwise), for my grandfather, it invariably referred to the broth after cooking black-eyed peas or fresh field peas (frequently flavoured with a strip of bacon or part of a ham bone.) Served over rice or with cornbread, it wouldn't last very long.

In keeping with his Depression-era outlook on food costs, it's extremely economical. Tesco sells a convenient package of chopped lardons for £1. Dried black-eyed peas and rice are dirt cheap. Contrary to the cooking instructions, I like to let these beans cook for a couple of hours even after soaking all night. Bring to the boil and simmer on low. My grandmother used to leave them on the stove almost all day; she'd turn off the heat until someone came in the back door and then put them on low again to offer them something to eat. For an extra kick, I like to add a little chopped pickled jalapeño or a few dashes of habañero Tabasco® sauce and a freshly chopped tomato.