The Hostess of Spices

Yesterday we went to Nina and Chat’s to watch the Superbowl. Because Nina does not eat meat, it was our first ever vegetarian football party. And I did not miss chicken wings, fingers, breasts, or toes at all. Nina made enchiladas and black beans that were seriously so spicy that I took down half my glass of wine before going back for more because they were delicious. The kind of delicious that makes you embrace the burning sensation as just part of the experience.

This happened to me once before when I was eating a spicy papaya noodle salad in Thailand and despite the fact that my lips were swelling to an alarming size, I ate the whole thing. Because I love a side of pain with my entree, apparently, and no one can stop me from enjoying it.

Someone asked her for the recipe, but of course she didn’t have one, because really good vegetarian cooks just know what to do with spices. I mean, I like cooking and I enjoy spice, but I don’t believe I have ever had that eureka moment in the kitchen where I’m like, “You know what this chicken toe needs? Coriander.”