Connie's Chili

My mother passed away early this morning, resting in the arms of Morpheus to ease the pain of a body racked by Cancer.  Connie Stickley actually checked out sometime between Friday night and Saturday afternoon.  But like an engine that knocks, the body kept running for a while.

I went to see her yesterday afternoon.  On Friday, she was responsive, and we talked.  Yesterday, she couldn't speak, and couldn't hold your hand.  My mom was no longer with us at that point, so it was just a matter of time.

Per her wishes, there will be no service or funeral.  Her obituary will run in The Salt Lake Tribune next Sunday.

There is some humor in this situation, but you have to know the back story.  When I was a kid, my mother knew I liked comedy.  She bought me, Bill Cosby records.  And the only time I was allowed to stay up late enough to watch, The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson, was when there was a comedian on the show.  Joan Rivers, David Steinberg, George Carlin, Flip Wilson.  I loved them all.  She even let me buy George Carlin's, Class Clown album, the one with the, "seven words you can't say on television" when I was only about 14.  Yeah, it's not for kids, but she knew how much I loved comedy.

So she would find this really funny.  She wanted her body to go to the University of Utah's Medical School. She didn't want a funeral.  Well, she was so sick, they wouldn't take her.  Man, in how bad of shape do you have to be to get rejected for the job of, "cadaver"?

When I say something that makes my friend, the comedian laugh it makes my day.  But when I say something that really strikes a nerve with her, I'll just hear her say, "That's funny".  I think if Lisa were here, she would say, "That's funny."

My mom had a lot of friends.  Most people, even my friends, liked her much better than they like ME!  She was a wonderful lady.  And she always treated my friends like gold.  And the thing they all remember most about her was her chili.  Connie's chili was a legend.  Whether it was my friends and I coming home after a cold winters day of hunting in the desert, or at a tailgate party, she would knock people dead with her chili and corn bread.  I don't know where she got the recipe, I assume it was from a cook book.  She was not a, "wing it" kind of a cook.  But it has stood the test of time.

She gave it to my friend, Jami to include in a cookbook for St. Vincent's church years ago.  I think the book was called, Angel Food.  I have a copy somewhere.  But it's not been widely distributed.  Until now.

Years ago, the comedian, Ron White did a joke about the city of Cincinnati calling itself, "The Chili Capitol Of The World".  The punch line was that he thought a Mexican with an onion and a goat could come up there and kick their ass.  Especially if the Mexican didn't need to ride the goat home.

Well, Cincinnati, Ron White, his fictional Mexican and the goat would quake in their boots if they ever met Constance Ione Durst Stickley and her crock pot!  So here it is.

Three pounds extra lean ground beef

One large can tomato soup

Two jars of your favorite salsa

One large can of Hunt's chili beans (this is OPTIONAL.  REAL, "Connie's Chili" is all meat.  My wife can't eat chili without beans.  She is a mutant! She grew up in California, for crying out loud!)

Chili powder to taste (mom said three table spoons, Deb and I like to use four.  You can play with this)

Salt and pepper to taste  (keep in mind, there is salt and other things in the salsa you use.  When I make this, I don't add salt or pepper)

Brown the meat (and since I don't have a huge grill like at a restaurant, only a frying pan.  I brown a pound at a time to make sure it all gets cooked).  Put the ground meat in the crock pot with all the other ingredients and let that sucker cook over night.

It's amazing.

So, enjoy this (I'm talking to you Dennis Winslow!) and if you knew my mom, remember the good times.

To tell you how long we tailgated with my mom, our first tailgate pass in 1983 was $8.50.  What do they cost now?  I'm just sayin, it was a LONG time.

Good bye mom.  You and your chili live on.