I've been making the same chili recipe for about 10 years. I mention that because while this story isn't really about chili—it is, instead, the story of loosening my culinary morals—the chili,mychili, plays a major role.
It's a vegetarian chili, and at first glance it seems pretty run of the mill, if a bit artisan. There are black beans and pinto beans which I've soaked overnight; homemade chili powder; and all the standard chili fare (jalapeños, onions, etc).
After that, it goes off the artisanally-made rails.
Because once, after a summer cook-out, some friends of friends left behind a pack oflime-enhanced Bud Light beverages。啤酒有点势利眼,我推他们back of the fridge, just in case a swill-drinker should again grace my door.
Months later, when a chill had set in the air, I gathered the ingredients to make my beloved chili. But when I arrived at the deglazing portion of the process, I had a sudden realization: I'd forgotten the “high-class” Mexican beer I would typically use. At a loss for options, in went the Bud Light Lime. And damned if it wasn't the best pot of chili I'd ever tasted.
I’ve made it the same way ever since.
Bud Light Lime makes sense in chili when you stop to consider why it works. It's less bitter than other beers I might have tried, which results in a sweeter stew. And the lime factor lends an acidic finish which cuts through richer, spicier flavors.
But how would Bud Light Lime fare with other dishes? That was the question that arose when I reluctantly told the story of my chili to my coworkers. Rather than act horrified as I assumed they might, they were oddly intrigued. Collectively we wondered: Can you braise in Bud Light Lime? Can youbakewith it?