Split-Rail Chili

Everyone who knows me is well aware that food is my love language. So, it's no surprise that in times of celebration or hardship, my friends and family offer up delicious homemade delicacies to honor whatever circumstances life has thrown my direction. I have received many gorgeous dishes over the years as a token of love and support: my mama's insane cooking (too many meals to mention); nourishing homemade chicken bone broth from my dear friend, Hannah; my mother-in-law's delicious, gooey cinnamon rolls; and my cousin Joy's authentic Italian Pasta e Fagioli (perfected during her time living in Italy). The mouth-watering list goes on and on. Consistently, the aromas, beautiful textures, colors, flavors, and infusion of love that goes into preparing the dish always warm my soul. It is true for me that when you feed my belly, you feed my heart.

Of all the deliciousness I have received, one meal will always stand out as the most impactful dish I have ever been given. It is known to us as Split-Rail Chili. It was prepared for my family by my sister, Candace (lovingly known as Coco, her auntie name), after we had our second baby, West.

A little back story:

It was late March 2020. I'm sure many thoughts and emotions pop up when people reflect on that year, specifically that month. The month that COVID was declared a pandemic and a national emergency. Everyone was taking precautions, filled with fear of the unknown. Groceries and toilet paper were flying off the shelves, and the entire country was shutting down. What a time to have a baby!

The days leading up to West's birthday were full of excitement and anticipation, swirling hand in hand with anxiety. As the media continued to tick the death count, I was counting down the days to bring new life into this world. I had no idea what the circumstances would look like when my baby finally made his way earthside. I wasn't sure if I would be allowed to deliver him the way I intended—no restrictions, no pressures, gently allowing him to arrive when he was ready, with the support of my husband and sister.

A few days before my due date, I went to my final midwife appointment, and she informed me that due to the new hospital rules surrounding COVID, my sister would not be allowed in the delivery room with us. Only one support person was permitted, and there was word that some hospitals weren't even allowing that. This news was heartbreaking for both of us. I was Coco's doula for the birth of her last daughter, Harlow—one of the most incredible moments of my life next to having my own children, and she was supposed to be at my side when West made his grand entrance. We shed many tears of sadness and frustration over that restriction.

I went into labor on April 1st; fortunately, everything went beautifully (with the exception of a hiccup after he was born, but that's a story for another time...or never). We were so lucky! My husband was my doula, and West came to us in his own time. After a long and slow labor, we were blessed by his sweet spirit, instant smile, and sparkly eyes—the joy we all needed during a dark and unknown time.

After we arrived home with our new baby, we were showered with DoorDash deliveries. One delicious restaurant meal after another, our bellies were grateful and satisfied! We appreciated every gesture of food-love so much, but were beginning to crave some homemade goodness…and Coco delivered. She, my brother-in-law, and two nieces trekked to Denver from Cheyenne, WY, with four bags of groceries filled to the brim with all our favorite treats and a big pot of homemade chili. Their generosity as abundant as their excitement to meet our new addition.

When they arrived at our house, they called to let us know they were out front, and we directed them to the street alongside our split rail fence. Due to all the unknowns surrounding COVID and a brand new baby in the house, we had to do our best to protect our health during that time. We knew that if we didn't have a fence separating us, it would be damn near impossible not to run straight into each other's arms.

With physical distance that felt like a canyon between us, we stood in our backyard and did our best to connect in such an unnatural way. Our hearts ached to embrace, and tears flowed from our eyes, just as they do now, as I recall the sadness of not being able to run up and throw my arms around my family. All I wanted at that moment was to plop my new baby into my sister's loving auntie arms and squeeze my bro-in-law and nieces. Having to tell our oldest, Hudson, that he could not get close to his cousins was so difficult. As much explaining as we did, the kiddos still did not fully understand why they had to stay apart. The sweetness of this moment introducing West was shadowed by the sorrow of keeping the people we love at more than arm's length. All of our hearts were full and broken at the same time.

We spent as long as we could standing on each side of the fence, talking, crying, laughing, looking longingly at each other until time ran out and they had to leave. Before they departed, they placed the bags of groceries and chili over the split-rail fence for us to collect when they walked away. It was the first time we had parted from each other without a hug, and my heart was heavy.

Later that evening, we heated up the aromatic pot of delicious homemade chili. As I ate, tears poured down my cheeks as I thought about the hands that prepared it with so much love. I imagined the arms that chopped and stirred, the arms I couldn't get close to. I thought about my sister and her family cooking this meal together in their kitchen, and with each bite, I felt a tangible connection to them. At that moment, the meal's warmth washed over me like a cozy embrace, and I was comforted through every spoonful of love. The chili felt like one big beautiful hug in a bowl, and I was wrapped in the love of my family that transcended the space between us.

The memory of introducing our new baby to my family over our fence was hard, but it was also beautiful in its own way. It is a memory we will never forget, as is the meal that became a physical link to my family during a difficult time of separation. One we now enjoy even more in person—Split-Rail Chili.

Split-Rail Chili

(written exactly as my sister wrote it down for me)

Ingredients:

1lb of Grass Fed Ground Beef

1 case of Organic Spicy Breakfast Sausage

2 tablespoons of Chili Powder

2 Poblano Peppers, oven-roasted and chopped

A dash or five of Celery Salt

1 largish White Onion, chopped

Several Garlic Cloves…you decide, depending on the level of intensity you want your breath to be.

2 mini jars of Tomato Paste

2 cans of Crushed Tomatoes

3 cans of Tomato Sauce

½ bottle of BBQ Sauce (pick your fave)

One can of beer (minus a few sips for the chef)

A couple dashes of Worcestershire Sauce

A few arm swings of Balsamic Vinegar

⅓ cup of Honey

1 can of Red Kidney Beans

Salt and Pepper to taste

Directions:

Brown the beef, breakfast sausage, and onion in a large pot. Add the honey and stir. Then toss in everything else in whatever order you want. We're not fancy here.

Let the ingredients dance together until they come to a boil, then reduce the heat to low. Let that gorgeous mess simmer and cook for like 15-ish minutes or until you think it's done.

Toppings: (oopsie, I forgot to add this to the ingredient list)

Sour Cream

Cheese

Sliced Avocado

Chopped Jalapeño

Green Onions

Cilantro

Corn Chips

Bon Appétit!