Heather Hades

On Sunday, while I was running a vacuum’s hose down into the depths of my sofa, I got this idea of inviting a couple of my friends over on Monday night to partake in some Heather Hades. Heather Hades is the only dish in which I have detailed the specific ingredients. I first concocted it about five years ago just for fun. Many people would label Heather Hades as merely chili, but it is beyond some ordinary, run-of-the-mill chili or spirited stew. To the strong, it is a spicy concoction, to the weak, it can be a near death experience. I should state that though I own an array of pots and pans, I am distinctly a non-cook. I am an avid microwaver. This lack of expertise seems to add to the intrigue and danger.

I feel reluctant to reveal the Hades ingredients, but since hardly anyone reads this nutty blog, I might as well. I start off with a can of V-8 Juice, diced tomatoes, chili beans, and ground Italian sausage. I then add graded bits of a couple of hot jalapeno peppers, Mexican oregano, diced morsels of pepperoni, onion and cumin powder, a bit of garlic salt, and a touch of cinnamon. Then as it cooks, ¾ teaspoon of chocolate sauce. The greater quantity, and the hotter the jalapeno pepper used, the deeper into hades the chili will take you. Two things that have to be served alongside any decent chili are a Shiraz wine, and Mott’s “Original” apple sauce. Both are perfect compliments to a good chili’s spiciness. Cornbread is for sissies. A pre-chili salad is advised, just to activate the saliva glands.

My two friends, Beka and Toni, showed up right on time, 7:37 PM. In fact, I had to open the door only once for the two to enter. Both girls were hungry and ready for some Hades, so after the required hugs and giggles, we pretty much went right for the kitchen table.

After the salads had disappeared, I ladled out the Hades. I advised the ladies to start off slowly and have one hand on a full wineglass for purposes of dousing any fire.

Toni handled the concoction better than did Beka. Toni said that it was nice and spicy and just what she had been waiting for all day. Meanwhile, Beka had more difficulty and was forced to take it more gingerly. The wine seemed to numb Beka’s entire body rather than put out a Hades-ignited oral fire. After ten minutes or so of cautious spoonings, her face had turned red, traces of sweat were appearing on her forehead, her eyes were watering, and her nose was running freely. I think the only thing that kept Beka from a trip to the emergency room were the occasional gulps of cool apple sauce.

Afterwards we wandered into the living room, and opened another bottle of wine, this time a white zinfandel. We sat back, and talked while we casually watched three old episodes of The Mentalist. I do not remember anywhere near all of the conversation that took place between us, but we did agreed that overweight men are generally more cute than underweight men, dogs are more fun than cats, and more times than not, shoe deodorizers have a more pleasant fragrance than does a car air freshener.

We disagreed on our last topic of the evening; best love-making position. We had consumed enough wine to make it a topic of conversation, but not so much as to unanimously agree on it… although we did reach a 2 to 1 majority. It was a successful evening.