Screaming For Ice Scream

The first time I had heard about the Bhut Jolokia (Ghost Pepper) Chili I was in awe of the thing.

Rated as one of the hottest chili peppers known to man, the Ghost Pepper is a hybrid creation that stands behind only the Carolina Reaper and Trinidad Moruga Scorpion peppers who are numbers 1 and 2 on the list of the hottest on earth. 

Translation: This little guy is nothing to fool with.

Regardless its #3 position, the Ghost Pepper Chili boasts an impressive 401.5 times heat rating over your everyday Tabasco sauce. Additionally, it tops more than 1 million Scoville heat units (SHUs). (The Scoville scale is the measurement of the pungency and heat of chili peppers and other spicy foods, rated as a function of capsaicin concentration).

I was first introduced to a story of this pepper via a story of an electrical worker who was on a lunch break. One of his buddies whipped out a container of home made salsa made with ghost chilis. The dude ate the entire container of salsa with chips (wisely, no one else would touch the stuff), then spent the next hour in the restroom.

When he emerged out of the lavatory, he went immediatel home. 

And he didn't show up for the work the next day. 

Or the day after that.
 
Let's just say the guy learned his lesson.

So at dinner one night, my cousin who knows of my proclivity for hot, spicy foods presented a small container of ghost chili salsa for my perusal.

Now, it's well known I'm daring. But I'm not stupid. I opened the container and took a whiff of the stuff. There wasn't any noticeable smell other than that of any normal salsa but, still, I wasn't taking any chances.

I ran to a cupboard and grabbed a couple Trisket crackers. Back at the table I picked up a fork and dipped one of its tines into the stuff and deposited a tiny dot of salsa on the end of one of the crackers. And when I say "dot" I mean the size of a pin head. I chomped curiously at the cracker.

Almost immediately, I was rewarded with a tasty salsa flavor, bold and rich. And then the most interesting thing took place in my mouth.

The only way to describe it is like this: Have you ever been driving along early in the morning and suddenly come upon a fog? The kind of fog that starts out as wisps of clouds and quickly becomes so concentrated they obscure your view completely, forcing you to slow your vehicle to a crawl while alternating your headlights from low beams to high beams and back again several times to see what lends the best visibility? That's exactly what took place in my mouth. A sensation of "fog" began rolling over my tongue and proceeded along to the back of my throat enveloping it throughout. It was strange, not unlike when you get a shot of Novocaine from the dentist.

And then? I felt a slow heat begin to rise, methodically and persistently building over the seconds to the point I realized my taste buds might be in trouble. The heat built and built, I felt a wash of perspiration break out on my forehead and an inkling of panic set in. Would the sensation stop? Or was I going to have to run for some milk to quash the oncoming heat?

Though, seriously, if a pinhead of ghost chili salsa was affecting me with such overwhelming resolve, what good would milk really do?

I felt myself beginning to salivate, similar to the initial stages of throwing up. I didn't have need of upchucking but I was experiencing the preceding salivations. If the heat kept marching onward I knew I was in for a searing ride.

But then? The sensation began receding all of a sudden. The heat buildup just stopped and backed off in stages. The foggy feeling in my mouth remained, I still felt myself salivating, the sweat was still on my brow but the fear of my mouth beginning to sear from the heat of the peppers was no longer a threat.

I ate my dinner that night with my sense of taste somewhat muted.

Since, I've used the chili on several occasions to spice foods ... but not to eat directly. That little bugger is way, way too potent and a little goes a long way. As an underlying ingredient to give foods a kick it's terrific. And that's all it's good for.

A year later, recently as a matter of fact, I revisited Bhut Jolokia. This time? In the form of ice cream.

Yes ... ice cream.

It was being sold by a vendor, by both the spoonful and the cupful - $1.01 and $5.05 respectively. That same cousin was with me again and purchased a spoon of the stuff for me.

It was a warm day, ice cream was definitely on the menu. But Ghost Chili ice cream? Interesting concept. The sensation of the heat and the cold appealed to me. I had to give it a shot.

But, again, having experienced the pepper previously I wasn't going to be stupid about it. I started by licking off about an eighth of a spoon's worth of ice cream to catch my bearings. It was good stuff, cool and refreshing. Then, that sensation boldly came into play: The wash of mouth-fog, the revelation of approaching heat, the brow becoming damp. It really was an interesting experience and a different take on the ghost chili.

The down and dirty? I only got through a third of the spoon of the stuff. I wasn't going to jeopardize the rest of my day with the feeling of the roof of my mouth hanging in shreds.

Daring? Yes, I am. But daring only to so many SHUs ...

.......... Ruprecht ( won't ever STOP being daring )

I Had A Rash ...

... well ... actually, I experienced a rash. Let's put it that way.

And not that kind of rash.

The kind experienced was one of overly-concerned people questioning me about my food choices. This rash has come in a clump - two instances of genuine concern and a third which turned out to be puzzling to say the least.
  
Concern #1 came Sunday morning while at a Mimi's Cafe. I rarely frequent Mimi's (I think the last time I dined in one was 5 years ago or so) but it was the brunchy establishment of choice that morning. (If memory serves it was the only real game in town at the time with regard to a sit-down eatery.) An omelet was the order of the day and I requested one of Mimi's "French inspired" selections, the "Omelette Basquaise." This little number contained Andouille sausage, roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, mushrooms and Jack cheese topped with sauce basquaise, a slightly spicy tomato sauce.

My waitress (who could have been the twin of Camryn Manheim circa The Practice years) asked if I had had that particular dish previously. I responded I had not. "It's rather spicy," she informed me, to which I grinned goofily.

I waved her revelation toward me with exaggeration. "Bring it on. Thanks for the warning but when it comes to spicy foods I highly doubt it will faze me." She said something about it being too spicy for her and acknowledged my response with a smile.

When the dish was served and I'd tasted it, I noted it did have a tangy bite. But that was all. I would bet dollars to donuts that the average person who states a dish is hot would have considered this breakfast indeed to be too hot for them. But it wasn't. It was pleasant enough. It didn't even require a glass of water to help make its way down. It was just fine.

"How is your omelet?" the waitress asked at one point.

"Not nearly spicy enough. But it's just right for me this morning," I answered. 

Concern #2 came later that evening. Out and about all day, the meanderings ended at a Chicago Fire Restaurant which specializes in pizza, salads and wings. I'd never been to one but I was in the (extremely rare) mood for pizza for some reason, something that comes about once every other blue moon. Scanning their menu, I decided on a titular "Chicago Fire" pizza. This little number came with hot Italian sausage, Giardiniera peppers, habanero sauce and jalapeno peppers, the description alone indicating it was on the hot and zesty side.

And again, when the waiter came 'round to take the order, I was asked if I'd had the pizza before. "It's really hot," he decried. "Too hot for me." And, again, I told him to bring it on, thanking him for the warning.

I asked rhetorically of my dining companions what the deal was with my welfare where fiery foods were concerned and left it at that.

And I'll admit: The pizza was hot. But far from unpleasantly so. It was enjoyable in that I was happy with my selection. (I've had cravings for pizza previously and ordered pies which not only were lacking in flavor but were actually steps backward in my desire for future pizza orders.) I'll will further admit it was hot enough to wash down with a second 22 ounce beer. Hot, but not too hot ... and but thoroughly tasty and agreeable.

It was at the last place this week that spurred me to write about the frets various wait staffers had for me, however. Because this one truly befuddled me. 

With errands to be accomplished, it was decided Chick-fil-A was the accepted fast food joint to grab something, eat quick and go. Not having been in a Chick-fil-A many times, I scanned the menu thoroughly. The preferred item turned out to be a spicy chicken sandwich, precisely what I ordered from the scrubbed and attentive cashier behind the counter. But the order came with a question:

"It's all right that the sandwich has pepper jack on it, right?" he queried.

Now ... what I really wanted to do was shoot a snappy comeback at him. (I knew I was a bit tired from a strenuous bike ride earlier and I could tell I was somewhat peckish.)

"Well ... be that as it may, I not only speak English but I can read English well enough to comprehend the menu up there behind you. Thus, I can plainly see Chick-fil-A's spicy chicken sandwich comes with a slice of pepper jack cheese - which is commonly of the zesty cheese variety. Not to mention the description for the item states it's "spicy" so, yes ... pepper jack on the sandwich would be acceptable. I mean, being that I'm ordering that particular item ..." 

Because that's what I really wanted to say.  

I wondered: Did I not appear as if I knew what I was ordering? Was there a confused look on my face when I offered my option? Did I hem and haw while voicing my desire? Was there a weak, uncertain timbre in my response such that I may have been vacillating on what I wanted? Was there some random person standing next to me wearing an "I'm With Stupid" T-shirt with an arrow pointed my way?

But, instead, I simply said "Yes ... that's fine" and accepted the drink cup he offered me with a smile. I didn't understand why he asked that question but I let it be. There was no need.

And, as it turned out, the spicy chicken sandwich at Chick-fil-A wasn't spicy in the least. 

.......... Ruprecht ( won't STOP his "spicy" retorts ... but curbs them every now and again ... ) 961

Real Life Adventures In Construction - The Day Off (... a continuing series ...)

For Father's Day, I decided to take the day off (I worked continuously the 6 days prior, I thought I deserved a break) and catch Man Of Steel. 

The theater - Cinemark at The River - is 4.9 miles away from where I'm staying. Why not walk it? I didn't have much of a choice since my car wasn't with me. So what if the theater is two cities over? I got dressed and huffed it.

The film was fine, I enjoyed it. 

Leaving, I knew I had another 4.9 miles to go before I got home.  I hitched my backpack a little higher on my back and hit the road.

Some would call me foolish walking 10 miles in triple-digit temperatures. (It was 108° on the way home, a little cooler when I'd left.) I see it as an adventure.

When I can't do something like this any longer? Then - and only then - will you be able to call me foolish.

(Then again ... maybe it's better I simply don't take any more days off work ...)

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

You know ... you should really stop being foolish.

Real Life Adventures In Construction (... a continuing series ...)

Solar Contractor Boss (whose crew has been on the roof in triple digit weather the last three days: "It's not going to mess anything up if I cut the power for a bit ... is it?"


Ruprecht: "No. Go ahead."

A moment later I meandered outside. As I passed him monkeying with the electrical box, I climbed a ladder to the roof to see how the solar panels were coming along. In passing I noted: 

"You realize if it's off too long and my ice cream melts, you're in big, huge trouble ..."

I could feel laser eyes drilling holes in the back of my head ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

I Think Her Name Was 'Dakota'

Today, as I sat and ate lunch in my car, I saw a woman sitting on a bench waiting for a bus.

And she was good.

How good was she? You be the judge:

It was about 59°F degrees outside. Yet she was in a bare-armed tanktop, she was continually drinking from a soft drink container and she fanned herself incessantly.

As a matter of fact, after about 5 minutes of fanning, she put on a big, bulky jacket ... apparently because she grew cold from all the fanning she did.

I mean … this woman was that good …

............... Ruprecht ( STOP )