I barbecued various meats and vegetables this weekend, including various peppers that I bought at the store, and a couple of my own. Mine were spicy red ones that I grew this summer, turned out great, I can barely eat them. The box from the store had a diagram explaining the relative hotness levels of the ones that came in said box. On a scale of 0-10, the ones like the ones from my garden were a 5. The little orange ones were a 0. The slightly bigger orange ones, jalapenos apparently, were 10s.
So of course when a relative came out to our place on his bike, a cousin who is spending the summer in Vienna with an enigmatic organization (not my enigmatic organization, another one) I offered him one. I didn’t even have to insist, he cut off a piece and ate it up.
Me: Heh, that’s what everyone does on the youtube videos of people eating jalapenos! The jalapeno hiccup!
Me: [Eat a piece] Hyyrp!
Him: Hyyrp! Hyyrp!
Me: Hyyrp! Hyyrp! Hyyrp!
It was like listening to a conversation from Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” machine-translated into Icelandic.
Jalapenos are hot!
Apparently ghost peppers are much hotter, but I won’t be eating one of those anytime soon, not on purpose.
I gave the left over jalapenos to my daughter for her boyfriend.
Beta. She brought me some extra-hot sambal from Indonesia. When I cut my pork cutlet with the knife I had used to cut the jalapeno, the meat was spicier than when I put the sambal on it.
We don’t eat a lot of spicy food around our house, but I think now that the kids are bigger, it wouldn’t hurt to up the piquancy a little.