She bought a chili kit at the supermarket, we made it, and I was converted. Then we broke up, and I didn’t make chili for awhile. I was always eating someone else’s, or it was canned chili over a hot dog, or, the absolute worst, cafeteria chili.

Fast forward a few years, and I decided to make chili for my (once, current, and future) sweetie. No seasoning packets, no kits, no training wheels. Since then I have tinkered around with this recipe, and have always changed one thing or another. This isn’t really the kind of recipe that calls for specific measures. What you’ve got are ballpark figures. So feel free to adjust things for taste, and like in any good relationship, experiment. You never know what you might like.

—Brandon T. Washington

I'd like to report that nothing goes better with Mama's Chili than a peanut butter sandwich (good for dipping — trust me!).

– Angie Heaton

My grandparents were Italian immigrants. They loved food — pasta, prosciutto, roasted chicken and American favorites like apple pie.

One of my grandmother’s specialties was struffoli, a snack or dessert that I loved as a child. I’d describe struffoli as doughnut pieces drizzled with honey and sprinkled with powdered sugar. My grandmother would make the dough, slice it into bite-sized pieces, fry them and then put them in a bowl with honey and sugar. I’d sometimes treat myself to an extra dish of honey.

– B. Joseph White