Chili

In my fantasy world, every family in America would cook for themselves most nights of the week, and every family would have its own version of a slow-simmered winter-sunday chili. The following is my mom and dad’s—the one my brother and I grew up with. It was always made with lean venison (we rarely had beef in our house because our neighbors and friends were always so generous with their deer and because my dad, who “hunted” in his bathrobe from a recliner next to the window in his second-