My Dear Brother

Is a lousy cook.

That is to say, we have diametrically opposed ideas of what good food it.

To me, good food is nutritious, not too heavy, and tasty without being too spicy or too bland. To Tom, good food involves getting as much meat, grease and spice into your stomach as possible. We share cooking duties.

When he's working with his buddies painting, I get home earlier than he does and I cook. We had French toast, chicken soup with crackers, and cheesy-chicken and rice. Today it was cold, dark, and rainy so Tom stayed home and therefore he cooked dinner.

He picked chili to cook, which I am fine with. I like chili and Tom and Isaiah had both been saying it sounded good with the cold, damp weather that's rolled in.

Well, he made chili four two adults, a tween and two little boys with a pound and a half of hamburger, that he browned but didn't drain or rinse, a packet of William's chili seasoning (good stuff there, all ya need), a can of tomato sauce, two cans of red beans, and a can of rotel, tomatoes and green chilies.

There was grease on top of it, and it was so over spicy it burned my mouth. Tom said it was mild and not spicy at all. I can feel it sitting in my stomach spicy and greasy just waiting to cause my intestines problems.

Next time I cook the chili ( incedentially we had the same issues with him making goulash - he puts rotel in everything, mom didn't do that, he swears she did).

Anyway, me bitching about how he made chili will not help my indigestion. I ate a small amount so that my boys would eat. If I brought it up they wouldn't have eaten and it would have started an argument with my brother. I should shut up and be glad that he cooked so I didn't have to.

But, I get to bitch about it here.

So, its Friday night and I'm sitting home with my compute, my cat, and my boys.