Growing up all we ate was deer chili and I did and still do eat chili for breakfast.
Here is a pictuer of a big 6'7" farm boy named Josh Hames that lives on a wheat farm outside Spokane Washington.
He is at work getting some of my prime rib chili I made every Sunday night.
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If I didn't make this chili people would get ticked off big time.
It got so bad people were showing up to get it I didn't even know.
I had to start hiding it in the bosses office to keep people out of it.
The camp chef even got his share since he was the one that supplied me with a lot of the ingredients.
One time I made it with a big bag of dried shetalky mushrooms he gave me.
This stuff was loved so much the boss of all bosses would allow me to take off early to collect the meat to make it.
That part was a little tricky.
Some of the jerks on the serving line caught wind due to someones big mouth we were making chili with the meat.
The guy wouldn't let a guy named Andy have any.
Andy stupidly told the guy we were making chili.
Next plan B I would go down with a pile of take out clam shells and act like I had a crew in the field working and was bringing them food.
Another guy the one that took the pictuer would go get the rest of the stuff.
Sometimes I would sneak into the pantry to rob them of things.
You would be amazed at what the kitchen staff had ordered for themselves and was never served.
We fixed that too.
One method was to walk around with a pen and clip board like you belonged there.
The V8 juice I would collect on the shared services plane ride up.
My supervisor would take the crock pot down when it was empty and have the kitchen clean it.
If anyone balked on helping they didn't get chili and was banned from eating it.
If anyone complained it didn't have beans they were banned.
Worth