Greatings from Cancun, Ireland. Huh?

So...I've had a dream for quite a while. I often sit and daydream (Not at work! Really!) about one day opening an Irish pub. My brother's rolling his eyes right now. He just doesn't understand why I have a fascination with Ireland, and all things Irish (whiskey in particular) when he's traced us back to Scottish ancestry. I can't explain it, but I am positive there is a leprechaun somewhere in my family tree. Anyway, as I was saying, I've dreamed of owning an Irish pub. It would be complete with dark wood, a couple dartboards that look like they've been around since time in memorial, a kitchen cooking up bangers 'n mash, and a bar serving up Guiness, Murphy's, and shots of Jameson. Conjures up nice pictures in the mind, doesn't it?
There's a problem with my dream. In my dream, right next to those shots of Jameson are shots of Patrón (Tequila, that is). No self respecting Irish pub would sell tequila...would they? None of the Irish pubs I've been in have. Okay, admittedly, I've never set foot in a real Irish pub, but this is my blog. So, stuffit!
Anyway, as I was saying, no self respecting Irish pub would be serving tequila shots. What to do? What to do? Suddenly, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. When I looked to my side, what did appear? Twas a wee little man with a fluffy red beard...and sombrero.

"Who needs self respect?" he said to me with a big grin. "Serve them both!"

"What!?!" I replied incredulously. (Remember, this my dream.)

"You heard me right. Serve them both! And, if you really want to screw with their minds, serve both kinds of food."
This guy was totally brilliant! Nothing says "Authentic Irish Pub" more than Chile Rellenos and enchiladas.

"Or," he said, as we wrung his hands together, and chuckled an evil little laugh, "you can mix them."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yeesssssss!"

"What would I serve? Corned beef enchiladas? Molé and Mash?"

"Faith and Begorrah! I can see this is going to be a long night. Perhaps you should ponder this a wee bit before coming to any decisions"

With that he turned, and started to fade away. "Wait!"

"Aye, me boy. What might you be wantin' now?"

"I don't even know your name," I replied.

"O'Shea...José O'Shea!"

With a tip of the sombrero he disappeared.

Henceforth my pub shall be called José O'Shea's. I think it just might be the world's first authentic Irish/Mexican restaurant. Of course, I still don't know the menu, but I'm sure some of my readers will be full of ideas. I figure my menu can be in three sections: José (Mexican), O'Shea (Irish), and All the Way (I think you can guess.) Go ahead and consider this an interactive blog entry. Tell me what food combinations you think would make a good All the Way menu. Maybe I will try some and post the results. Maybe.

I do know one thing that will be on the menu. José O'Shea's World Famous Green Chili. That's what I entered today in my company's first annual Chili Gas...oops...Cook Off. Unfortunately, I can't call it "championship" because I had to settle for second place. I'm certainly not going to call it José O'Shea's World Famous Second Place Chili! It's all the fault of that Paula girl. She just had to make two chili's and win third and first place. On top of that, she's the one who tallied the votes! There's something fishy in Denmark. Sorry, we're talking Ireland and Mexico, aren't we? Really, Paula's a real sweet person, and would never cheat me out of anything. If I had to lose to anyone, I would rather it be her.

THAT'S A LOAD OF CRAP! YOU'RE GOING DOWN NEXT TIME, PAULA DENBOW! YOU'RE GOING DOWN!!!

Oh dear! I just don't know what came over me. If you haven't ever had green chili, prepare yourself. It is nothing like regular chili. But, that's not a bad thing. It's a delectable treat created from a cornucopia of God's good bounty.

You're looking at Chili Poblanos, yellow sweet peppers, jalapenos, onions, and tomatillos. Tomateewhats? Tomatillos. Those are those little round things in the nasty brown paper skins. You find them in the store with the tomatoes. Guess what? They're not even remotely related to tomatoes. When you peel the brown "wrappers" off, they look and taste like little green tomatoes. They are actually a berry though. In fact, they are related to gooseberries. Go figure.

Anyway, I took those deliciously fresh veggies, and combined them with garlic, chicken stock, three pounds of chicken, and a secret blend of herbs and spices, and Shazam!

Geez! Can you guess why it's called green chili? You ladle it over a bed of rice, and top it with a dollop of sour cream, or Greek yoghurt (Uh Oh! Now it's an Irish/Mexican/Greek pub!), and you have a wonderful concoction of peppery goodness. I'd give you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you. I can't be giving away top secret recipes from my restaurant. Can I!?!

Anyway, we have one menu item down. We're hardly done yet, troops. Give me some help. I'm waiting with baited breath! (That could be from the eleven varieties of chili I ate this afternoon. Sorry!)