My Diary

Chili con carne

How difficult can it be to eat? In Italy, very difficult indeed. It’s a cult, it’s a religion, it’s an obsession. They have the same maniacal attitude to food as they do their clothes . You can tell an Italian at a hundred paces anywhere in the world because how he wears his jeans is a knockout! Trendy, size-right, sexy, perfect. How do they do that? Me? I will have been living in them for a week, trying to beat Mr Ryanair’s baggage rules, climbing rocks to get a better view, sliding down mossy tree trunks, dribbling street food all over them, baggy at knees and bum, I’m a sight and not for sore eyes. It’s the same way with food; they’re perfectionists. I’m not but I still have to nourish myself. I bought chili from the ethnic section of the Supermarket the other day . Quite expensive for a tin of beans I thought. It wasn’t quite as bad as it sounded because the plan was to try it and if I liked the taste I would then find a recipe on the internet and make a real one. So far so good. But it’s in a very old fashioned tin! who owns a tin opener? my neighbour perhaps? He’s on holiday. Could there be one in the garage with the other trash ready to go to the tip?No there isn’t so I have another quick look in the drawer turning utensils over and I found one. Once open I peer into the mangled depth of the tin, it looks awful!

So I decide to add some sausage which I bought yesterday and which today looks horrid too.I do eventually eat it salvaging the beans from the thick sauce. Did I enjoy it?