Home grown jalapeno peppers are an order of magnitude stronger than any jalapeno you will ever get in a restaurant or a store.
I had that epiphany tonight after wondering what to do with the bumper crop of jalapenos I've pulled from the plant (which I refer to as Hell's Own Oral Bullwhip) recently. I got the bright idea of taking a few jalapenos and frying them up alongside my hamburger.
I cooked 'em 'til they were soft. I ate the burger (with blue cheese, thanks) and a home made pickle, and a Sierra Nevada. Ooooh, so good.
Then I tried the jalapeno. I picked up the little one. I slipped in in my mouth. Nothing major. I waited a second. No burn. I bit into it.
OH! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
It was somewhat hot. For some reason, I felt an immediate need to drink a glass of milk. Then another one. The burning was frightening. Even my teeth were burning. I know that's hot because I haven't had that kind of burn since I ate the 7 pepper wings at the Wing Wagon in Utica in 1986 (heat rated from one pepper, to 7 peppers). I tried some bread and butter, yet still it burned like... well, like hell. I tried a plain piece of bread. I was sweating like Jimmy Swaggart outside a brothel. More milk. Two half liter glasses of ice cold water...
Eventually the burning settled down. But even now, an hour later - with a huge liquid bloat on my gut, and the pepper just a receeding memory - my teeth hurt and it feels like I just drank a shot of Frank's Red Hot. That had been larded up with fresh ground black pepper and maybe some tobasco, for good measure.
Daaaaamn, that was a hot pepper. It was good too, though I probably shouldn't have just crunched down the whole thing. That was a couple shots of insanity washed down with a chaser of dumbass, right there. Won't be doing that again soon. Not until after the burning in my mouth subsides in a few days, anyhow.
So it's Friday. Let's have some fun. First, I rode Metro at rush hour today for the first time in ages. Some observations.
- The 400 pound dude with the eyepatch - I don't know what Big Sweaty's story is, but I bet he's got one, and it's suitably horrifying.
- The Grad Student Dude and the Young Idealistic Female Political Staffer Trying To Impress Each Other - they are lucky I didn't cram their I-Phones down their smarmy 23 year-old pie holes. Her story was that her life is so hard being so young and in such a responsible position, because she has a verrrry important job. (Don't worry, honey, you won't have to suffer for long once they have a chance to backfill your campaign volunteer self with a career civil servant). His story was that he's getting a degree in national security studies, focusing on end of the world scenarios. (Um, yeah, like when Daddy quits picking up the $45k/year tuition - that's your armafuckingeddon right there). I was about to beg them to go to the back of the train car and discretely cheat on their spouses, so they'd have an excuse to stop talking and boring the rest of us, when the train stopped and I got off. I don't know jack about being in an important job or saving the world, but I do know that when they got done talking, loudly, their two huge egos had sucked all the oxygen out of the train car and I was praying for a crash just so I'd have an excuse to get out of the car and run away screaming down the tunnel. Hey, it's feasible... I was riding the Red Line.
Here's a little Offspring for you:
offspring come out and play
And maybe just a little bit more:
And while we're being all upbeat... here's a little Gnarls Barkley for you.
I don't know why I like GB, but I just do.
Ps. Charm City Cross on Sunday. Even if you aren't racing, come on out and enjoy the scene.