A
friend from east of the Mississippi told me about his
introduction to Texas chili. "My mother made vegetable
soup, sprinkled a little commercial seasoning on it, and called
it 'chili.' For years I thought I was fond of chili, and had
eaten a lot of it. What a shock to learn I had never tasted the
genuine article."
For
a while after the experience he probably couldn't taste anything
else. Many underprivileged Americans, living in less favored
parts of our country, do not know that "chilies" are
red-hot peppers; "con carne" says "with
meat;" and "y frijoles" means beans have been
added. It is supposed to sear your lips, melt your
fillings, and raise steam in your stomach.
Of
course Texans have their failings too (wash my mouth with soap).
A ranching friend told of traveling through Tennessee, and
ordering ham and eggs for breakfast. Said the ham was firm, very
salty, and "had some sort of greasy, red-brown gravy we
were told to put over our biscuits." The truth is (says
this Kentuckian) my friend had never tasted real ham with it
red-eye gravy. He thought that water-cured rubber he had been
eating was ham. In such cases, what you
