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Ok, so the chilli I’ve made isn’t quite a stew, but the rhyme pleased me.

Which is a good thing, as I now have a large pot of simmering spiciness, conveying an aroma of over enthusiastic seasoning which seems to be getting stronger as is cools.

I thought it was suitable weather for making chilli. I should have known it would all go wrong when I got halfway through and realised I had a distinct lack of kidney beans. I chucked in some cannelloni beans instead, and gave it an optimistic stir.

And then I added a bit of this, a bit of that, and some of the other – just like I normally do – and pondered the advisability of adding some chocolate. I decided not to, on the grounds it would be better for me to eat said chocolate separately, thus saving others the calories.

It was supposed to mellow on the hob, simmering itself into gloopy meaty goodness with a hint of a slap round the chops. Instead it’s got a kick like a mule and an aftertaste which requires a large mouthful of merlot to wash away. Given I would therefore be drunk by the time I got to the end of an average serving, this is possibly not a good meal to serve up to anyone other than an extremely close friend. One thing is for sure, I’m not going to be able to tell my lovely local butcher what happened to his freshly minced steak.

I’m going to have to freeze it in the hope that a month in the cellar will deaden its pervading aspirations, and invest in vast quantities of sour cream.

Now, my house smells like a home economics lesson, the Boo won’t come into the kitchen because it makes her sneeze, and my mouth is on fire.

What an excellent start to the week.

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