The quote, from
the opening song of Aladdin (that’s right, I have taken to quoting Disney movies
from the late 1980s), refers to the thermal and salacious characteristics of
Arabian Nights. That is not the topic of
this particular discourse. Though the
arid climates around the globe are often harsh and foreboding, the culinary
gems they produce have become delicious additions to my gastronomic preferences. I love heat, whether it be the vinegar and
spice of a curry vindaloo at the local Indian restaurant, the meaty, egg-filled
poblano of chile relleno at Mexican establishments, the soy, ginger, and garlic
delight of chicken Szechuan popular in American Chinese cuisine, or just some
good, old-fashioned red-pepper flakes on my pasta or pizza. Some like it hot, and I am one of them.
Warren
Zevon, fully aware of his impending death from pleural mesothelioma, was asked
by David Letterman during an interview if he had gained any wisdom or
perspective on life after receiving his grim prognosis. He remarked simply, “enjoy every sandwich.” I follow this advice daily, by adding to my
pastrami or turkey & provolone on rye, various hot sauces ranging from
sweet & spicy to the type of incendiary concoctions that convert one’s
tongue to the type of inferno that would make Dante cringe. Indeed, it is one of the highlights of my
day, to which I eagerly look forward as noon approaches.
Recently,
my future father-in-law has taken to growing all manner of hot peppers in his
backyard. As one of the few members of
his circle who fully appreciates the beauty of the world’s more fiery
delicacies, he was so kind as to pick several for me during my most recent
visit, sending me on my way with a Ziploc baggie with a half-dozen explosive
beauties. When I returned home, during
my next lunch, I set out to construct a sandwich whose heat level would ignite
my senses.
It
is generally known that the majority of the capsacin, the chemical responsible
for the burning sensation in one’s mouth, is found in the seeds of spicy
peppers. When I have consumed jalapenos
in other contexts, I may choose not
to disregard the seeds so as to maximize the spice to which to wanting taste
buds are privy. Thinking this similar
line of thinking would be equally savvy, I made a similar decision, sliced the
peppers, placed them beneath my carefully laid deli meats and cheese upon the
rye bread. The result was atypical, for
these were atypical peppers. I have
consumed specialty hot sauces bearing an “XXXXX” label and warnings detailing
the truly unimaginable heat. This was
worse. The flames filled my mouth with
acidic, caustic burning that brought tears to my eyes and cleared my nostrils
and sinuses more rapidly than any antihistamine or decongestant. Worse, the heat was inexorable and
unrelenting. Neither milk, nor bread,
nor cool liquids accomplished anything to regulate the fury upon my palate. I was bested, with nothing to do but simply
wait for the seething pain to subside.
Once
I had reached a level of tolerable pain, I promptly sliced and de-seeded
another pepper, and constructed a second sandwich. Never has such a potent pepper ever tasted so
feeble and tame. Perhaps this experience
is the purpose of excruciating training regimens, after which any circumstance
appears manageable by comparison. While
I do appreciate the bolstered tolerance for heat, the battle’s end was declared
prematurely. The following morning’s
effects were harrowing at best, but need no further description.
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