Well, it is officially fall. In Pensacola, we are still hitting 90 degrees with over the top humidity. We wear shorts and flip flops all year long. As I matter of fact, I wore a pair of flip flops to church Sunday. They were sparkly flip flops, but flip flops non the less. You can buy a bathing year round in our stores. You can find water floats, sunscreen, coolers, and anything you want with a flamingo on it. As much as I love my Florida life, I need a little fall! I need to pretend that there are pretty fall leaves on the ground. I need to wear boots and a sweater. I want a fire in the fireplace. So instead of having these wonderful fall transitions actually happen, I light an apple caramel candle, make myself a pumpkin spice latte and get a pot of soup simmering on the stove!
None of our punks live by us, not one. I will never get use to it, I will never like it. I miss my babies! My stove always has a ‘pot’ of something on it when my punks come home. They arrive at the house, get smothered with loving from me, get more loving from Sir Streusel, and finally get the best loving from the girls.
After the loving and smothering dies down, they ladle whatever is in the pot into a bowl and head to the table. Then the fun begins. When they come home, our best times are around the table or at night around the firepit when the Florida weather allows a little cool weather to settle on us. That is when we catch up with their lives and Sir Streusel and I remember what it was like to be newly married, or single, and still be able to stay up past 8:30pm. Seriously, I don’t remember the last time Sir Streusel and I rang in a New Year. Even the kids in our cul-se-sac that are blowing up firecrackers don’t wake us. Having a ‘pot of something’ prepared on the stove that first night they all arrive home, allows me to have more time with my punks. I love cooking for them, and I do, non stop. I need them to remember how great it is to be home with me. I want to spend that first night listening to stories, laughing until my stomach hurts, and watching the boys catch up with their baby ballerina sister. I just don’t want to miss a single minute of it. This pot of Chili Chicken is filling, comforting and waiting on the stove when they arrive. I have lots of toppings set out so they can fine tune it to their taste. Prepare a pot of this for your holiday guests, or just for family. Then sit around the table and laugh…and smile…and if yours have become adults like mine…picture them being little punks and start to cry because you miss those days!!! Continue reading Chili Chicken