You think it hot going down?
Wait'll it come out!
Posted on 07/31/2007 12:19:41 PM PDT by NormsRevenge
NEW DELHI - I know people who regularly eat bhut jolokias — the "ghost chili" now rated as the world's hottest pepper. They're nice people. I like them. They don't seem crazy.
Appearances are deceiving.
I ate an entire bhut jolokia the other night, sitting at my dining room table with an open beer and — on the advice of the experienced — a bowl of yogurt and a few slices of bread at the ready.
I had the strange fear that nothing would happen, that I had traveled halfway across India in search of a chili that would be no hotter than an apple. I thought I was prepared.
What followed was a gastronomic mugging.
I know, I know. You probably think I'm exaggerating, or maybe just inexperienced in the ways of chilis.
"I like hot peppers," you're saying to yourself, thinking of those times — you were probably in college, maybe your early 20s — when you'd had too much to drink and challenged a friend to a chili-pepper-eating contest. You slopped down one jalapeno after another, enjoying the way it battered your system.
I used to think like that too. But that was before my encounter the other night, when I took the first nibble from the end of a red vegetable barely two inches long and weighing little more than a sheet of paper.
"Not too bad," I said aloud to the empty room. My ignorance lasted about three seconds.
It was hot. Hotter than anything I'd ever eaten. My tongue burned, I began to cough.
I knew I'd have to eat quickly, or I wouldn't be able to finish it. So I took another bite, and chewed. Then another. I ate down to the stem. I swallowed.
It's not how bhut jolokias are normally eaten — most locals use them in sauces, or chew off tiny pieces between bites of their main course — but I figured I should get the full experience (Plus, let me add, one of my editors suggested this exercise in masochism: Thank you, Ken).
The full experience?
It was awful. My eyes watered uncontrollably and my nose ran. I felt like I was gargling with acid. My hands quivered. As the minutes passed, the pain grew worse.
I shoveled in yogurt: No relief. I chewed bread: Nothing. My head felt like it was expanding. My ears felt as if hot liquid was draining from them. Picture one of those old Tom and Jerry cartoons, with steam blasting from Tom's ears as a train whistle blows. That was me.
The experts say beer and water do no good at such times. Maybe that's true, but gulps of very cold beer were the only things that helped me — washing away the pain for a few blessed seconds.
Twenty minutes later, I had recovered enough to speak clearly. So I called my wife in New York, where she is on vacation with our children. She laughed at me.
A day later, my tongue felt as if it had been scrubbed with a wire brush.
And a day after that, a friend made me a lunch flavored with bhut jolokias.
It was a traditional meal from Nagaland, the northeastern state along the Myanmar border where my friend was born, and where super-hot chilis are a part of life. There was diced chicken and hunks of pork and a cold stew of fermented tofu beans, all spiced with the chilis.
The food was simple, delicious. It was mild by the standards of Nagaland, just one bhut jolokia or so for each dish. I loved it.
I just hope she couldn't see that my eyes were again watering.
I love you!
You always make my day.
I use Dave’s just for cooking. It is way too hot for anyting else. They also make a salsa that is really really hot.
When ever I have a friend shooting their mouth off about how they can handle hot stuff, I give them some of that.
Also, Predator is way too hot
Krusty the Klown: "His ears if we're lucky!!"
Works in a pinch.
That is one of my all-time favorites! The first time I read it a few years ago, I laughed so hard that I cried and coughed, and couldn’t finish!
Thanks so much for the great laugh!
I love Dave’s Insanity Sauce, but anything more than a few drops at a time is hard to take. I’ve tried Dave’s salsa as well, and it’s really quite tasty, despite creating a sensation akin to flames shooting out of your eye sockets.
Thank God I was alone. I poured it into a soup spoon and ate the thing. I starting breathing heavy, lost eyesight- I assume by closing my eyes, lost control of myself which included stripping off my clothes to reduce the heat in my body. A few minutes later I regained composure and got myself out of the fetal position on my couch, and put my shirt and pants back on.
I bought it to work and asked everyone if they wanted some “hot” hot sauce. A guy without a lot of brains put it on his plate, dipped a piece of chicken in it and ate. He went into a stare...a deep stare. A few minutes later I looked over and that guy was still staring with beads of sweat running down the sides of his head and neck. I'll give him this, he was composed.
I can do a habanero. But this sounds like it’s out of my leauge.
Eating this chili will hurt... Twice.
This farmer knows where of he speaks. When I first went underground at Magma Copper's Magma Mine where underground rock temperatures are extreme, all the miners brought bottles of a liquid call Agua del Gallo or drinking chili. It was made by boiling chills with onion, garlic, vinegar, sugar for about an hour and straining the liquid. You then put it in a mason jar and took it to work. It was then kept cold in the ice water can. A slug of that stuff would clean you sinuses, cause sweating, eye watering, and all the other evils of hot chili. It also worked better than salt tablets to fend off heat exhaustion.
These days my 60+ year old stomach can barely take a few prick kee nu (rat sh!t chillies) in my Thai food.
I like spicy food, but..
Ditto. That stuff is explosive. I still have the same bottle I bought about 5 years ago. It makes tobasco sauce seem like sugar water in comparison.
ROFLOL!!
Not exactly a hot chili story, but this falls in the category of stupid human tricks, so I thought I’d share.......
My wife, Gretchen, is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to, “hey y’all, hold my beer and watch this!” Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes.
Last weekend I spied something at Larry’s Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my “fancy” is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for Gretchen. The occasion was our 14th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl.
What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Taser gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. Tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you’ve never seen one of these things in action, then you’re truly missing out-way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don’t need no stinkin’ directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I’d get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee . . I’m easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog , Moscow, looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Moscow) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Moscow for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Barb to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time... So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I’m looking at this little device (measuring about 5” long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, “no friggin’ way!”
Friggin’ way-trust me, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I’m sitting there alone, Moscow looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, “don’t do it buddy,” reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil’ ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. (Don’t ya hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY SHIT! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I’m pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Moscow was standing over me making barking sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, “do it again, do it again!” (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Taser, one note of caution.)
There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You’re not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you’re lucky, you won’t dislodge one of the prongs 1/4” deep in your thigh like yours truly. SON-OF-A-BIT%CH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I’m pretty sure.
By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I’m offering a reward. They’re round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss ‘em . . . sure would like to get ‘em back!
AMIGO, DON’T EVER DO THIS!
My mouth was on fire! It was like Tabasco sauce x100.
Impressive.
I use to win bar bets(and drinks) eating Jalapenos. I survived a habenero challenge - barely!
And never again...
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.