What’s your Covid number?

Winter has struck in Durango. I don’t venture outdoors too often, Its potential hypothermia and icy out there. I now find myself in extended periods of solitary confinement. 

Fortunately I still posses an active imagination. ( I haven’t murdered all the gray matter with my daily solo IPA Happy Hours. Yet! )

So without further ado, my blog...

There’s 331 million Americans with nearly that many opinions on dealing/existing with the scourge of Covid. We need to quantify where we all stand, sit or lie down on this complicated issue. So I invented the “Sambini Covid Zero-to-Ten Scale of Pathogen Personal Prerogatives.”

I know what you’re thinking. What the Hell is that! Patience Grasshopper while I explain. 

And in the beginning Jeff created a scale....

0: An American who asks, “What’s Covid?”

1: Americans who claim the virus is nothing more than a hoax. They refuse to wear masks. It runs counter to their individual rights. They consider themselves to be True Patriots. Just ask them.

2: Americans who are Covid aware, but believe it’s transmitted from contact with dirty toilet seats. Therefore no need to wear a mask.

3: Americans who will begrudgingly mask up to gain access to a public building. Once inside, masks migrate below their chin line. 

4: Americans whose masks slide below their noses. We’ve all seen this look. 

5: These are the middle-of-the-roaders. They are Team Players who will don masks in public buildings, yet they bear a business as usual approach to the pandemic. They are so-so about social distancing. If pressed, they will state, “I won’t live my life in fear of Covid.” 

6: Is a 5’er who won’t shake your hand or give you a hug.

7: Americans who wear a mask in all public buildings and occasionally in outside settings. They won’t be found in an inside bar, restaurant or on an airplane. Seven’s will have occasional lapses of good judgement at outdoor social gatherings. Abundant alcohol use is often the cause. (I confess! I’m guilty!) 

8: Americans who have changed their routines and schedules around Covid. Eight’s will limit their exposure to other Americans. They’ll grocery shop at the opening bell when most others are still in bed. They’ve pared their needs to the basics. Food, alcohol and a quarterly haircut. 

9: Extreme mask use and very limited public appearances. These are the people seen wearing a mask while driving alone.

10: The Uber extreme side of Covid. They’ve gone missing since the initial March lockdown. All food, alcohol and other necessities are Amazon Prime delivered. If your timing is perfect you might see an outstretched gloved hand snatching up a bevy of cardboard boxes. Their homes are hermetically sealed too. 

That’s my easy to follow rating system.

In America no invention/idea is worth anything if you can’t sell or scam it. Since my book sales have been more or less comatose like my social engagements, 

(Find “Destroying Demons on the Diagonal” on Amazon below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B006VXRMUG/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

I’m launching the Sambini “What’s your Covid Number?”  line of t-shirts, jackets, sweatshirts  and of course masks.

My activewear will feature “COVID” in bright contrasting colors in the front and on the back. Below that will be your number on how you personally view the virus. ( I probably won’t sell many 0’s, 1’s or 10’s.) I’ll make a great line of clothes—and nobody makes better clothes than me, believe me. And I’ll make the manufacturer’s pay for that great gear. Mark my words. 

Plus with every sale you’ll get a free set of Ginsu knives. Such a deal!

BTW. I consider myself to be a solid 7.5.

Cheers to a better 2021, (no matter what your number is.)

Jeff

Our Worst Years.

We’ve all had them. 365 days when nothing seems to go right. We feel jinxed and abhor these extended moments. We crave to tack up a new wall calendar, one with the promise of better days ahead.

In my 66 years, I’ve had two notable years that (I’ll be blunt) SUCKED! 

In 1972, I was just seventeen when my dear Mom passed away. To this day, I dwell on how I lost years of her potentially positive influence. There was so much more goodness, gentleness and generosity I could have acquired from that tiny woman. I feel like I was robbed of so many lessons I might have learned. 

2010  was the beginning of another infamous year. In the late fall, a driver made a hard left into me and my bicycle. My helmeted head and shoulder snapped off the sedan’s side mirror. My left knee twisted. I didn’t lose consciousness, so I came up cursing. The young male driver was wise enough to apologize. This incident triggered a downward spiral of poop including:

A) The worst orthopedic quack in the world ignoring the prescribed MRI report. Thus performing an unnecessary surgery on a knee that was merely bruised but not broken. I came out of surgery barely able to amble. Apparently his arthroscopic skill level bordered on barbaric. Weeks later, when I called him on his haste not to glance at my MRI report, his retort? “I only scoped you. Get over it.” I should have decked him.

B) I began 2011 attending PT sessions to relearn how to walk. It was well into March before I could limp up trails. As part of my PT I hesitantly returned to bicycle riding. By April, I performed my favorite Tucson activity. I left.  On July 11th, I was bicycle touring in Montana when I was struck from behind by a speeding sedan. An accident which should have killed me, but I beat the odds. It takes more than 11 broken vertebrae, a busted sternum and 20 stitches in my face to put me in an urn. So...back to PT I went to alleviate the damages. I freaking hated 2011. I was robbed by three nincompoops of a year’s worth of play, health and happiness. If you’re detecting bitterness, you are correct.

2020 of course has been rotten for most of humanity. As the saying goes, “Misery loves company.” For once I have plenty of company, but I can’t speak to them without wearing a mask. Forget about touching anyone! It’s been a tough year to be sociable. Even for a hermit who occasionally socializes like me. 

We’ve all been robbed physically, emotionally, economically and for 323,000 Americans their very existence. It’s been one drawn out mess. We are now mired down in a winter of Covid discontent. New cases and daily death counts are soaring. A pathogen caused 911 disaster each day.

BUT! There’s hope on the horizon. It comes in a little vial and requires two applications. Yes, the vaccine. I’m waiting impatiently until it’s my turn at bat. Until then I’ll stay in solitary confinement. However, I’m well aware that the vast majority of Americans need to get onboard the vaccination train. It’s the way to achieve Herd Immunity. It’s not called Lone Wolf Immunity for a reason. Please. Be a Team Player so we can all reenter into a more normal society. (I’ll buy you drinks at a real Happy Hour if you do!) 

Wishing you and yours a saner, safer and healthier 2021.

Cheers,

Jeff

Last photo: Take That 2020!

“We always have food...

on the table.” Was my father’s go-to response when one of his three boys was kvetching for a materialistic goo gag we weren’t going to get. If we kept whining, Sid would just say an emphatic “NO!” (I think that was his favorite word.) 

We were kids. It all seemed so harsh. Sheesh! What’s the big deal! Everyone had food on their tables.  But now that I’m older and I think wiser, I see where Sid and Clara were coming from. They both witnessed the Great Global Depression. They also saw how chaos can reign when a German Madman instigates extreme population control measures. Also known as: WW II and the Holocaust. I’m sure in those disruptive times consistently putting food on the table was a BIGLY deal.

When the Sambur Boys became established, there was always food on our table and everywhere else! Mom would admonish me to “Eat! Eat! Eat!” Which I Did! Did! Did! When I reached the age of Bar Mitzvah, I weighed as much as I do now. Except! I was eight inches shorter. Yes. I had a lot of excess schmaltz on me. 

But Sid and Clara were equal opportunity food distributors. Friends, family, strangers and the Prophet Elijah were always asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” No one left on an empty stomach. 

Guess what? Mosey to my house or camper and I’ll ask you the same questions. (With an offer of an IPA or coffee depending on the time of day.) 

Now in Durango, I’m still working at getting a feel for the town. The other day I was scrolling along on Facebook. Past the endless stream of photos of dogs, babies, scenic wonders and political rants when I noticed something. There on the “Be KIND Durango CO” page was a photo of a young woman and her two tow-headed tykes. Her message was simple. “My kids are hungry. Can anyone help, please?” 

So sad! I looked at the comments. Good Durango Samaritans rose to the occasion offering meals, money and advice. More than one person suggested she check out the Durango Food Bank. It looked to me that this situation was temporarily under control, but it got me thinking.

People hungry in La Plata County? Who knew? 

I checked the Durango Food Bank’s website. Their motto: “Working to Feed our Neighbors in Need. “ 

http://durangoareafoodbank.org/

I continued wandering around the site when I discovered this: 

• There are an estimated 6,420 food insecure individuals in La Plata County.…missing at least 1 meal per day.
• 5% of La Plata County’s children are experiencing hunger

OY! I made a check out to the Food Bank and sent it. Surely I could do more. Which triggered this note to my neighbors. 

Now I’m waiting for the kindness and generosity to flow into that cardboard box.

I can’t help but think Sid and Clara are watching these events unfold from upstairs. Mom would poke Sid and say, “Look Jeffy is helping put food on peoples tables.” Sid might chime in,  “Clara, we did a good job. I think we raised a mensch.” 

This Holiday Season, be a mensch or mensch-ette. It’s the season for giving.

“Let all who are hungry come and eat.” 

Quote from a Passover Seder Haggadah 

Stay safe, sane and healthy,

Jeff

Routine Covid Survival...

“Woke up, fell out of bed

Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Made my way upstairs and had a smoke
And everybody spoke and I went into a dream.” 

In “A Day in the Life.” John Lennon and Paul McCartney poetically describe the start of a UK workday. There’s a routine to it. A sameness. 

. 

Currently La Plata County is in a Level Red - Severe Risk of Covid status. We’re in semi-lockdown. No one is pleased about this.

So I’m hunkering down (again) and seeking soothing sameness. Considering the circumstances, I’ll refrain from calling it “a rut.” Here’s my routine:

Wake up between 5-5:30ish am. Stumble down the stairs (without hurting myself) to flip “on” the coffee pot. (Six cups precisely). Cradle coffee cup in the crook of my left arm, while staring at my I-Pad in order to absorb The NY Times Morning Brief. Next I’ll read emails, Google this or that, dial in Weather.com to see if it’ll be warm and sunny or cloudy and cold. 

All the while the Anti-SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) light is wedged between the La-Z-Boy and my right thigh. This simple fix, fools my senior brain into believing there’s more than 9 hours and change of daylight in this 0-Dark-Thirty time of the year. It’s not a placebo. It really helps.

By first light, I’m sort of conscious, oriented and alert. I’ll start exercising (push-ups, hefting  weights around and balancing on a Fit Ball) while on the outside deck my company begins to arrive. That’s the chickadees, sparrows, grosbeaks, woodpeckers, doves, jays and other feathered freeloaders who flicker about my feeders. They are welcome guests. I unleash my first smile of the day. 

That task done, I’ll make my bed (only to have to undo it 15 hours later) tidy up the place for visitors who don’t visit and guests who are only here in spirit. 

Then time for breakfast! That doesn’t take long.

More putzing around until it’s warm enough to venture outside. Thus starts the best part of my day! I’m off for a 5-10 mile stroll/hike in hopefully Covid-free fresh air. 

Then back to solitary confinement. Eat an unexciting late lunch. Head upstairs to read by the last whiffs of daylight. Shower and shave. (Good hygiene matters even in pandemic times). Back downstairs to pop one of two Happy Hour IPAs. Not three IPAs or one IPA,  but two. 

At approximately 6ish, grab the TV remote to surf 125 channels for mindless entertainment. I’m partial to Ironman, Men in Black, Charlie’s Angels and “Bond, James Bond” genre movies. No deep thinking required. Perfect! 

By 7ish, I figure I better eat something, even though I’m not hungry. I’ll reheat a portion of leftovers from a BIGLY batch of one pot cuisine. Let it be known eating alone all the time sucks.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/11/comfort-through-chaos-through.html

Around 9, the meaningless movie is over, the dishes are washed and the recycling bin contains two more aluminum cans. It’s time to brush my molars and retreat to bed with a good read. 

By now you might be thinking, “Jeff sure spends a lot of time in a La-Z Boy or lying supine.” You’re correct. You might say “I am one with my La-Z Boy.” Which is why I’m cognizant of my daily caloric intake. I’m motivated to maintain my girlish figure through this Covid Crisis. I want to still be able to fit on a barstool or in a movie seat. 

I know my routine isn’t exciting or overstimulating. Covid is reeking havoc for a “vacation planner” like myself. (It’s on my retirement card, so it must be true.) Yet! There’s a light show at the end of this “Groundhog Day” movie experience. 

“What’s that Blogger?” 

A) In less than a month, the days will start to grow longer. Here’s a personal equation. More Daylight = Happier Jeffy

B) On 1/20/2021, there will be a Presidential Inauguration. America will return to Grown Up Government. 

C) A tad later, with major assistance from my nice neighbors, Sanctuary Too (my camper) will be placed back upon the Tundra. Two days later, I’ll be in Death Valley National Park for 4-6 weeks. 

D) April will find me camping in Canyonlands National Park. I scored  two weeks of campsites. 

E) With each and every sunup and sundown, we’re (hopefully) closer to a proven and effective   vaccine. No more lockdowns. No more stay at home routines. Freedom to Happy Hour, hug, eat in a restaurant, hang out in coffee house, volunteer safely, walk next to other humans, go to movies, concerts, the library, brew festivals and shop without fear or a mask. I’m so jazzed I already purchased my Fiesta  hat.

Stay safe, sane and healthy no matter what your routine is. Hope to see or meet some of you on the other side of Covid.

Hang in there. I think better days are looming ahead. 

Jeff

Finding a Double IPA in a...

Cooler of Bud Lights. 

I’m never been accused of being a Polly-Anna. It’s not my nature. Maybe it was from my days of growing up in the Bronx and being subjected to Sanitation Workers and Teacher Strikes. (After awhile both began to stink.)  Or maybe it was the time a group of knife wielding Thugs chased me through the streets while shouting, “If we catch you Jew Bastard, we’ll stab you!” Or maybe it was the 28 years of Emergency Service work which is an incubator for “gallows humor.” 

For whatever reason, it’s usually not me who finds the silver lining in situations. 

Let’s be honest, we are living in times in which rose-colored glasses are fogging up. Between Covid cases going “Bang! Zoom! To the Moon” (Ralph Kramden) and an upcoming Constitutional Crisis, the future doesn’t seem  “so bright, I gotta wear shades.” (Timbuk 3). 

Why I’ll bet it’s a challenging time for the most hard core “it’ll all turn out OK” optimists. Let alone me! 

However as I hike Durango’s surrounding trails, take slow sips of an IPA or gaze at technicolor  sunrises, I realized I’ve come a long way. I have heaps to be Thankful for. 

It wasn’t all that long ago, that I was homeless by choice for 6.5 years in Barley the Van down by the River. Ordinary things that others take for granted are still BIGLY to me. Like occupying a real address instead of 66 square feet of a mobile “home.” 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/in-america-if-you-dont-have-address.html

“Jeffie, can you expound on this?” Sure, I’m not that BUSY! 

A) In August 2019, I rented a fully furnished townhome. The decor was a Southwest Bordello motif. On the walls were framed pictures from the Motel 6 school of art. It’s been a steady work in progress, but now the minimalistic decor subtly proclaims, “Jeff, lives here.” I’m happy with the results.

B) I went from no indoor plumbing to three bathrooms and a laundry, complete with hot and cold running water. This is miraculous to me.

C) I no longer cook outside on a propane Coleman stove.  Now I create meals on a four burner gas stove with a convection oven. I have yards of granite counter tops for food preparation. The days of eating Campbell soups for dinner are now part of my history. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/11/comfort-through-chaos-through.html

D) My evening entertainment used to be reading by a Luci solar powered light. Now I own a 55 inch Samsung TV with 125 channel surfing options. I’m in sensory overload.

E) Mostly I’m thankful for finally settling down in Durango, CO. An area where the surrounding natural beauty is only surpassed by the generosity and kindness of my neighbors and acquaintances. It’s taken me nearly 65 years, but I’ve finally found “Home,” 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/10/in-fort-collins-i-had-sociopaths.html

It’ll be a solo Thanksgiving. I’ll be baking up an 18 pound Gobbler and a slew of broasted veggies. There will be plenty of extras which I’m willing to share in a socially distanced way. 

Happy Thanksgiving despite the chaos. If I can a find that double IPA through all this, anyone can.

Stay safe, sane and healthy. Keep those masks on tight. The next few months will be a wild ride.

Jeff

Last photo. I found that Double IPA 

An Open Letter to President Democracy...

Denier. 

Sorry to interrupt your Tweet. 

I’m well aware you have the attention span of a chihuahua mainlining espresso laced Red Bull. I’ll try to keep this post brief. So here goes. Are you still with me? 

With all due respect (which I have none for you) it’s over. You lost. You are a loser! However this isn’t the first or last time you’ve been sitting in the caboose of a failing endeavor.

Here’s some examples of your former ineptitudes: 

Trump Shuttle Inc. Crashed and burned with creditors aboard in 1992. 

Trump Vodka. Fell off the barstool in 2011. BTW. You don’t  drink! So to paraphrase Earl Butz. “He no play-a game. He no make-a “vodka.” 

US Football League. Fumbled in the Red Zone in 1985 to the tune of 163 million in losses. However, you did win a $3 lawsuit against the NFL. Now THAT’S the Art of the Deal! 

Trump University. Grade F- in 2010. This wasn’t  an accredited college or university. The conservative minded “National Review” deemed it a “massive scam.” Wow! Don you might want to remove that diploma from the Oval Office. BTW. Trump Inc. shelled out $25 million in lawsuit settlements for taking advantage of other wannabe scammers. 

The Trump Foundation. President Dude! You stole money earmarked to charities for your own business  and political interests! That’s low even for you. But you had help on this one. Your evil spawn. AKA Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest assisted too. 

Recently you’ve been slaughtered in your feeble attempts to reverse the election results in the courts. Donnie, I’m no lawyer nor do I play one on Facebook, but I do know this. Judges insist on seeing something called “evidence.”  Without it, there’s no case. You are wasting money that could go to organizations like...say Trump Foundation!  Oh never mind. (See above) 

So DJT... This isn’t your first rodeo of losing. No worries. Its cool. Being second or last might create a sense of humility in your selfish soul. (Which you could use in “Big Mac” sized portions. Just sayin!) 

By the numbers: As of this post, President-elect Biden has 290 electoral votes. You have 232. As far as the popular vote goes. Biden curried 51% with 78.89 million affirmatives. You garnered 47.3% with 73.2 million wanting you around for another four years. A 5.69 million vote difference. The approximate population of the entire state of Colorado. Unlike in 2016, those excess votes were in many swing states. IE: MI, WI, PA, NV and even the land of Barry Goldwater turned Blue. AZ that is. This Election wasn’t “rigged” or “stolen.” This is how Democracy works. 

To simplify it further. 73.2 million trusted you. Your words carried weight, despite over four years  of leaving  a Twitter trail of tall tales. 

 On the other side of the aisle 78.89 distrusted you. I’m sure most were weary of being demonized and scapegoated. The country had been divided prior to 2016. Since you’ve been in office the gap went from a hairline fracture to a full on femur through the thigh compound fracture. Complete with blood, gore and the chance of shock. There was no  “We the People” or “My Fellow Americans.”  It was gangland  Us vs. Them. The talk and Tweets were demeaning, unnecessary and cruel. 

Then there’s that mindless pathogen causing all all kinds of grief and uncertainty. To put it bluntly, your Administration’s response has been almost criminal in nature. From the first confirmed case in January 2020, you fibbed and downplayed the enormity of this minuscule virus. On January 22nd, “We have it totally in control...It’s going to be just fine.” The US now leads the World in total cases and total deaths. America makes up just 4% of the World’s population. This is a disgrace. 

 I’ll let you in on a not so secret secret. People are stressed. We don’t need or want a Constitutional Crisis. 

Here’s a history lesson. Since the days of George Washington (he was the first President in 1789) there’s been a peaceful and orderly transfer of power. It’s all been pretty civil. No mobs were taking to the streets. No one was preaching discord or throwing out words like rigged or stolen. The concession speeches were about unity for all Americans. 

So...President Trump, be a mensch. Do the right thing. Pass the baton to the President-elect so we can all move forward. Think of it this way. This could be the start of the New You. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even start to like you.

Sincerely,

Jeff

Don't forget to thank a Vet today...

 and everyday.

I bought Paul breakfast for his service to our country.

Thanks Paul!

Instant Karma (of the Good Kind)

         

 

     They are found everywhere in America, from metropolises to tiny burgs and all the places in-between.

     I’ve collectively nicknamed these bands of men the “early a.m. coffee klatches.” They can be found in our nation’s cafés, diners, McDonald’s, and gas stations. One can discover them wherever a cup of Joe is being poured. The one stipulation for making these sightings is to be a 0-dawn-thirty riser like me. With my early bird schedule, I am always on a collision course with these good natured, good ol’ boys.

     Their caffeinated banter is centered on harmless jibes, local news and gossip, sports and bumper-sticker sized solutions to the problems or our nation and the world. I think of it as a live version of the “Today” show minus Rockefeller Center and Al Roker.

     While traveling through the Northwest in the vicinity of Mount St. Helens National Monument, I was on a layover in Cougar, Wash. At 6 a.m. most of the lights in town were off (there weren’t many to begin with) except at the gas station. I pulled my camper van into the parking lot hoping for at least a cup of java and at best a breakfast. I was fortunate to score both and an animated coffee klatch to boot.

     After placing my breakfast order at the kitchen, I took a solo seat near the gaggle. As is my usual custom, I brought in a load of maps and hiking guides to help me figure out the day’s game plan. When my maps were spread all over the table, the local gent’s natural curiosity was piqued. A few came by to dispense advice on places to see and things to do. Most of the information was geared more toward ATV or equine travel than hiking, but I shook my head and smiled just the same. After a while they returned to their seats and their usual routine.

     I went back to looking at my maps, eating and eavesdropping on their conversations.

     From what I gathered they were a group of Army veterans spanning the years between the Korean conflict and the Vietnam War. One or two of the more vocal ones told war stories as if they were in a fox hole with bullets flying yesterday.

     I finished my breakfast, collected my maps and made my way to the cash register. I stopped in front of their table and interrupted them for a moment.

     “Thank you for your help on the local scene.” I allowed that to sink in before I added, “And thank you for your service to our country.”

     With that I walked away.

     A hush fell over the crowd before one of them piped up, “Wow! It would be nice to hear that more often.”

     So in conclusion, thank a Vet. It won’t cost you a thin dime, and the payoff might be priceless.

     Think of it as performing a random act of kindness in an often time not so kind world. It’s a win/win situation for all.

Comfort through the Chaos through...

Cooking. 

A few weeks ago, I posted about the correlation between my stress levels and restlessness.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/10/ive-always-been-restless.html

Since then, the O-dark-thirty hours are the majority instead of the minority. While camping there’s barely enough available sunlight to heat a Solar Shower. I’ve also witnessed frost on my windows. With less then 24 square feet of living space in my camper, claustrophobia was starting to set in. Alas it was time to extricate Sanctuary Too off my truck and place it (lovingly) into hibernation. Sniff. Sniff. 

Since then II, the Election has come and gone. There’s a Constitutional Crisis brewing because President Me! Me! Me! has no comprehension of the Rule of Law, US History or basic math. Oh yeah, Covid is rampaging too, but in a quieter fashion. 

So my comfort traveling days are done for now. I’m seeking solace in alternative ways.

I’m cooking! 

I know, not as exciting as camping and hiking in amazing WiFi-less places, but I’m making do.

I’m going all out comfort foods: Chicken Marsala, Pad Thai, Cashew Chicken, Potato Latkes, Pasta with veggies. All spiced in an underwhelming manner instead of shockingly. I desire subtle. 

Of course, I’m dicing and splicing  my All Time Favorites too: Minnesota Soup (inspired by my Mom)

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/01/minnesota-soup.html

and Sambini’s Famous Kosher Green Chili.

Let’s face it, most of us crave a return to the good natured real family values of honesty, affection,  humility, kindness, generosity, displaying  empathy and being polite and civil. In other words be a Mensch.These traits shouldn’t be looked upon as human frailties or being a wussy. This is what separates us from the rest of the Animal Kingdom. 

So... in an effort to bring about a kinder, gentler World and Country, I’m willing to  share my Green Chili recipe. Mind you this is 42 years of tweaking and revisions to attain this final perfect outcome.

Think about this. A First Generation American Child of the Holocaust has created this very Mexican comfort food. Now that’s What Makes America Great! 

Enjoy! (I’m willing to dole out samples to the Durango locals and my neighbors.)

Cheers!

Jeff

Sambini’s 🌎 Famous Kosher Green Chili Recipe

Over 40 years in the making! OY!

Ingredients:

2 BIGLY cans of Hatch Green Chili’s (other brands work too) drained

One jalapeño pepper diced

1 can of Pinto Beans drained

1 can Black Beans drained

3-4 medium sized red potatoes cubed (parboil them and set aside)

4 skinned deboned chicken breast cut bite size.(toss them into a bag of flour (2 light handfuls shaken not stirred) 

Veggie broth (use about half boxed container)

Two medium sized Sweet Onions or 1 HUGE one Diced

Two Bigly beefsteak tomatoes diced.

1 teaspoon kosher salt (of course)

1 teaspoon Black pepper 

1.5 teaspoon cumin

2 hefty tablespoons of diced garlic ( I use the kind that comes in jars)

Olive oil but just enough to fry the onions and chicken

How to:

In a Caste iron Dutch Oven (works best)

Use enough oil to fry the onions up nice. Then add the chicken/flour mix. Might have to add more oil, but don’t OD on it.  Chicken doesn’t have to be cooked through and through. Just enough so it’s not raw

In a blender: 

Place one can Hatch GCs. A diced tomato, diced jalapeño add enough broth to cover the bottom one third to half. Blend until it looks like a purée. Toss this into the Dutch Oven. Repeat with other can of GCs and second tomato 

Toss in parboiled potatoes, spices and simmer at low heat for many hours. I let mine go about 6 plus. You want this concoction to look like a stew. 

When it looks like a stew. Crack open an IPA, Or Margarita, grab a tortilla and enjoy with others.