Recently I had my hair cut and during it my barber asked what I was making for dinner. I told her I was making chili and she asked me somewhat sheepishly if I put noodles in my chili. Normally I would have whipped around to face her sputtering in disbelief but at this point in the haircut I was afraid that there would be some serious issues with my hair if I had. Instead I yelped, without moving my head, “What do you think I am?!? A lunatic?!?” I mean, my god, who would do something as wildly inappropriate as that?
I turns out that she does. Awkward . . . but frankly, you know, how bad can that be? Pasta . . . chili. Sounds like a winner. Not really. It wasn’t bad but, I dunno, the pasta sorta just dumbed the chili down. Neither thing was what it ought to be. I ate it, of course, because aside from anchovies and certain smoked fish items, I’ll eat anything.