I WAS AT a party last weekend with eight or nine gallons of chili. There were some crackers too. And some people – notably Binko, the maker of the chili. There were vegetarians, for whom Bink, bless his cookware, had muscled up a second enormous pot full of four or five gallons of meatless chili.

There were Hindus. They saw the ladle from the chili chili go into the vegetarian chili, and then they had to leave the party and go out to eat. The vegetarian chili, I hear, was pretty damn good too. The chili chili was stupendous.

The point is that eating chili always makes me think about chili. Thinking about chili makes me talk about chili. So: speaking of chili, I was going through my file of Menus People Have Sent Me in the Past 10 Years, and I found one that had Cincinnati chili on it. Cincinnati chili! Right here! Well, in Oakland. Well, Emeryville. (Cincinnati's in Ohio.)

According to Texas, Cincinnati chili is not the best chili in the world. But it might be the weirdest, because it has cinnamon in it, and it's served on spaghetti. It's good, but I agree with Texas: it's not the best in the world. But it might have been the best in Emeryville. If only I read my mail more carefully! Because by the time I spotted it in my menu collection, the Bank Club Cafe had changed hands at least once, and Cincinnati chili was no longer on the menu. Just like that, damn me.

I was planning to go eat there anyway, because they do have smothered chickens, but me and Crawdad were running so late for band practice that we had no choice but to stop at our old pre-practice standby, Your Black Muslim Bakery, for some quick jumbo fish sandwiches to go and a Styrofoam cup full of amazingly delicious bean soup.

It's a take-out only place on San Pablo right after you turn left off of Powell. We took ours around the corner to Lord B.J.'s. Lord B.J. says, by the way, that Your Black Muslim's large fish sandwich is bigger than their jumbo, which would be a good thing to know, if it's true, because the jumbo goes for $6.72 (tax included), and the large is $5.25. A bit much either way, you say, for a sandwich, no fries or nothing. I said that too until I tasted my first Your Black Muslim Bakery fish sandwich. Now all I want to do is figure out which is bigger between large and jumbo, because as much as I can get is how much I want.

The fish of the fish sandwich is whiting fish, breaded and fried, and the condimentation includes ketchup, mustard, and mayo if you don't stop them. Lettuce. Pickles. Onions? I think maybe tomatoes and maybe cheese, but I can't remember for sure. Maybe not cheese. Muslims have this dairy thing, I found out, which is actually a pork thing, or something.

All I know is I was wandering around the joint drooling over shelves of good-looking baked goods when I came upon a cooler full of pies. Except they were cheese pies, and there was this statement taped to the glass about how most milk has pork in it (which was a thing I didn't know), so you have to be careful. I think they said they found a kosher Jewish milkery that makes milk without pork in it. So another thing I learned is that orthodox Muslims can't eat pork, same as orthodox Jews, and same as Hindus can't eat beef.

At this point, instead of saying Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas and Top O' Ramadan and Whatever Whatever to you all, I would like to say something about holiness in general; but before I do, let me point out, in the interest of offending everyone equally, that I despise all religions and every notion of sacredness, and if I had a big enough stick I'd knock down God and Allah and any other piñata full of Smarties® anyone wants to hold up over our heads. Higher powers suck. They inspire nothing in us mere mortals more consistently than the desire to exercise other mere mortals' mortality. But, bad as the killing is, what really gets my goats is when they start fucking with what's-for-dinner. Go ahead and knock off your neighbor, but whatever you do, you must not eat that sacred chicken or goat or cow or pig.