Revenge of the Chili Queens Read Online Free Page B

can’t say exactly what high dudgeon is, but I’d heard the phrase and I knew it had something to do with being really pissed, and if ever there was a dudgeon that was high, it was Martha’s. “My great-grandmother, she knew how to make chili. She was the greatest of the Chili Queens. Everybody knows that.”
    “Everybody knows that each and every Chili Queen had her own secret recipe and her own special way of serving her chili.” I refused to get caught up in the squabble, so I kept my voice light and airy when I sailed past Nick. While I was at it, I gave him a look that pretty much told him, See, if it’s about chili, I can handle it. “I think it’s cool thatyou’re both related to real Chili Queens. It’s an honor to meet you. Both of you.”
    Martha’s bony shoulders shot back.
    Rosa lifted both her chins.
    “I can’t wait to try your chilies,” I said, because really, in case Nick didn’t notice, since the subject of chili came up, they’d both lowered those lethal ladles and were actually looking a little less like they were going to kill each other. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to have some right now. Whose tent is this? Which one will I be trying first?”
    Rosa sniffed.
    Martha snorted.
    “Whose tent?” Rosa hissed. “They’re actually making us share a tent. Share? With this gringo?”
    “At least I know my way around a kitchen,” Martha shot back. “My restaurant is the best place in town for chili. I use my great-grandmother’s authentic recipe,” she added as an aside that interested me no end. I knew it meant nothing to Nick. Then again, when it comes to chili, he’s something of a Philistine. “We use the freshest ingredients, and we make the best chili in the world.”
    I was pretty sure this wasn’t true, since my dad made the world’s best chili and mine ran a close second. Not to worry, I knew this wasn’t the moment to point this out.
    Rosa, however, did not have the same diplomatic savvy as me. She rolled her eyes. “You might know your way around a kitchen if you weren’t so busy sitting up front at the hostess station and drinking palomas all day long,” she told Martha. “Now my restaurant . . .” She swung around to include me and Nick in her intense gaze. “You come toRosa’s and you’ll have authentic chili. Just like the Chili Queens used to make. The real Chili Queens,” she added, and she wasn’t looking at me when she emphasized that real .
    Martha’s mouth puckered.
    Rosa’s eyes spit fire.
    It was Nick’s turn to groan.
    “I’m having chili.” Aside from the fact that I knew it was the best way to lighten the atmosphere, I really did want to try the chili, so I breezed past everybody and over to where pots of chili simmered away. Without waiting to be invited, I grabbed a ladle, filled a bowl, and plunked down in the nearest chair.
    We may not be as snooty as so many wine lovers, but chili tasters have their rituals, too. I spooned up a nice, big scoop of chili, closed my eyes, and breathed in deep.
    “Comino seeds,” I purred, and don’t think I didn’t notice that both Rosa and Martha smiled like those beauty queens over at the Consolidated Chili tent. I called it comino , not cumin . Right away, they knew I wasn’t a poser.
    “And serrano peppers,” I added. When they’re ripe, serranos are red, and hotter than jalapeños. “And ancho,” I said, just so Martha and Rosa would know I wasn’t just some pretty face who didn’t know what she was talking about when it came to chili and peppers and the way tastes and spiciness and textures combine to create a really great chili. Ancho peppers are dried poblanos, and I knew they’d give this chili a subtle sweet smokiness.
    I took a bite and nodded; I was right. While I was at it, I smiled at the two women, who were looking a little less angry and a lot more proud of their part in the tradition thatis chili. “Beef and pork. And suet. Oh, ladies!” I was relieved when they