Bryn’s six now. But I met her at a time when I needed severe comfort. Several parts of my life had ganged up to test me. Sitting on the edge of mourning, I wasn’t ready to leave its shadow. My marriage was running rough. The business was using more than it was producing.

I was running a soup shop at that time. The soup choices alternated weekly, with one long exception. From October through March, I made chili, and it was GREAT. You see, Tomato Vegetable was the best soup I made, but chili, especially mine, was in a class all by itself. That’s when little Bryn came into my life.

I openly admit that I am not a chili-zealot. I’ve never been to, or entered in, a chili cook-off. I simply wanted the best product for my shop. But chili was just another choice in the rotation before her first visit. After Bryn came, making chili was a more refreshing endeavor.

Her parents and I had known each other for about two years. Mommy was in college full-time; Daddy had a 4 p.m. to 10 p.m. janitorial shift. Free lunch from their friend was inevitable as well as convenient. Then Bryn was born. They would come to my restaurant and stay for an hour or two. For the fee of a few bowls of soup, I was allowed to baby-sit her. And it was a bargain in my eyes.

She had the timing of a Texan. Every time Bryn showed up, I was making chili. So she helped me. She would sit on the counter in her car seat and I would chop onions or green peppers, or soak beans, or prepare tomatoes and spices. I would pick her up and hold her near me while cooking the vegetables or boiling the beans. At any point, I would be spouting cooking facts and tips, all for the benefit of my four-month-old counselor.

Dickens said, "It is no small thing when they who are so fresh from God, Love us." She was small and delicate and, in my eyes, a reflection of God’s concerns for me. I loved her, and she loved me, and I thanked God for the solace that accompanied her stay.

Of course that’s where the thanks belong. Bryn didn’t do anything for me. She just sat there, cooed, smiled and grabbed her toes. But there was a higher power at work. And He knew no adult would be able to calm my heart. What I felt she did was give me hope, allow me to have faith and share her strength for life. When she was done with me, I was human again.

The winter ended. Her parents got real jobs. I sold the restaurant. Bryn grew up. We’re still friends, but it’s not the same, not like it was. Although I do have this recurring fantasy about when she grows up: she loves chili. "I don’t know why. We never ate chili too much at home, but it comforts my soul."

Todd’s Chili Tips

I did lots of research and ate lots of chili that wasn’t right. So I made my own and mine was better than all the others. Of course, ever since the second cook mixed up a batch of meat, spices, peppers and maybe some beans, the great chili debate was on: Which was better and why. For this reason, I will not give you my chili recipe. You’ll just take it and mess it up, add carrots or raspberries to it, or maybe you’re from Texas and think all the beans are "chili-apostasy." Too bad. You make chili your way; I’ll do it the right way. But I will give you some pointers…

Chili should have kick. In the words of Pecos Bill, the inventor of chili, "I call it chili, ‘cause it’s anything but." But if you are not the fire-breathing sort, just tone it back some. Make it sizzle instead of scald, or quiver in place of quake. To get that kick, I use two types of peppers: Jalepenos (seeds removed) and Serranos (seeds left in). Cook them well. Chili does not crunch.

Choose Frank’s Red Hot Sauce rather than other cayenne pepper sauces. It adds flavor as well as heat. If the choice is another cayenne pepper sauce or nothing, use it sparingly.

Ground beef, beans and layers of flavor. Use small amounts of seasonings. I’m talking about one or two teaspoons per two gallons or so. Un-taste-ably small amounts of spices will give you a great hint of "Hmmm, what is that unique flavor? I can’t quite put my finger on it." Right after high school I worked at a local chicken shack. For every two pounds of flour and spices, add one cup of cocoa. The chicken certainly did not taste like chocolate, but you couldn’t tell why it tasted different. You can soak the spices in with the tomatoes and sauce, overnight, or sauté them with your vegetables.

Serve with hearty, heavy bread. My personal favorite is the "small hub cap" rolls they produce in SLC at Curtell’s Bakery. I used them as bread bowls, but to each his own.

NEVER serve chili the day it was made. This is chili heresy.

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