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Hot Stuff: It’s a Little Spicy
People get reputations. Sometimes they work to create a certain reputation. Sometimes it just happens. When I was growing up, I was exposed to spicy food often. One of my daddy’s favorite phrases was, “It’s not hot until it makes your hair sweat.” And he meant hair, not just your scalp. Hair doesn’t have sweat pores? Then up the heat until they grow some. Looking back, this was certainly an example of his trying to create a reputation for himself of being tough and manly. He had been in the U. S. Army. Later, he was a railroad detective and then a municipal policeman. He was surrounded through most of his adult life in an atmosphere of what some now call “toxic masculinity.” Were I to try to analyze him, I would guess that having had polio as a boy might have been a driving factor for him to be tough and do manly things, to overcome physical limitations. But whatever his motivations, it meant that I grew up learning that real men do not use the mild salsa, but go for the hot sauce. I became inured to the heat. I expected the heat. Mild Mexican food? Who would bother to eat that?
As I got out on my own and was cooking for myself, I was always interested in new peppers. Back in the early 1990s, the hottest pepper known in the US was the Habanero. It had some Cod-awful level of heat that was up to 350,000 Scovilles. The Scoville scale is a measure of how hot something is as measured through dilution. They start out by diluting a bit of pureed pepper with water, such as at a million to one ratio, to see if someone can still detect the spiciness. If not, they cut back on the dilution until the spiciness is detected. In the case of the Habanero, it can be detected at a dilution of between 350,000:1 and at the mild end at about 100,000:1. To give some scale for a normal human, a Jalapeño runs between a mild 3,500:1 to a hot Jalapeño at 8,000:1. Thus a Habanero is between about twelve and a hundred times as spicy as your average Jalapeño. Cayenne pepper runs between 30,000 and 50,000 Scovilles for another comparison. Since the 1990s, more peppers have become known or developed that are over a million Scovilles, such as the Carolina Reaper at 1,569,300 Scovilles, but even up to 1999, Guinness was recording Habaneros as the hottest pepper cultivar in the world.
One thing about being inured to spice is that one can actually taste the peppers. I found that I did not like the Habanero much. It was too sour, like the Jalapeño. I much preferred the Serrano pepper, which only runs between 10,000 and 23,000 Scovilles. Only a tenth as hot as the Habanero, but still about three times as hot as the Jalapeño, it actually tastes fresh, more like Bell peppers.
I took to making my own salsas and hot sauces, since what was available in restaurants and stores was either too mild or too sour and vinegary. I usually used the Serrano, since I liked the taste. After reading about and experiencing the Habanero, I decided to make some sauce for my father. If a good hot sauce made from the hottest pepper in the world couldn’t satisfy him and make his hair sweat, what would?
Making a good hot sauce takes time. The makers of Tabasco Sauce® age their pepper mash in oak barrels for at least three years, going on up to fifteen years for special sauces. (They also do things like straining out the seeds, which are often the hottest part of the pepper, which is part of why their sauces are so wimpy. Even their Habanero variety is only a bit north of 7,000 Scovilles.) As the lady said, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” Or at least I didn’t have time for that. Still, it’s good to age the pepper mash for a bit. Unlike Colonel Brown, I didn’t even know one could buy barrels to age various types of mash in, so I had to make do with other techniques. I aged it for about two weeks, added some other ingredients to improve the overall flavor, pureed the result, and it was good to go. I made about a half gallon of it, by the way, because who wouldn’t go through that hot sauce fairly quickly, right? Even with the other ingredients, I doubt it had been diluted to below 100,000 Scovilles.
I sent half of it off to my father. His report came on our next phone call, “Well, I tried some yesterday. My hair is still sweating.” That was the seal of approval.
But I had a lot of sauce left, sauce that I didn’t really like the taste of because of the sourness of the peppers. I decided to take some into work with me with some corn chips. At the time, I was working for an information technology (IT) company at a client site. The client happened to be a school, and our IT center had at one time been faculty housing. The kitchen fixtures had been removed, leaving one large room that was tiled and where we kept the network admins. Since they had gutted the kitchen, we had a break room in the basement where we had a small fridge and a microwave. Because the campus was somewhat isolated from fast food, many of our team would bring lunches. Several of us were down in the basement break room the day I brought a container of the hot sauce.
“I’ve got some hot sauce and chips. Anyone want to try it?” I asked.
“Is it hot?” our resident ditsy blonde asked.
I loaded up a chip with a big glob of sauce and crunched into it, “Well, it is made with peppers. They’re a little on the sour side for my taste. But, it’s a little spicy.”
Despite being a ditsy blonde, she was smart enough or clued in enough by my nonchalance and understatement to be cautious. She took a chip, and I swear that she only waved it over the sauce, not actually making contact, and then she put that chip in her mouth, “Oh my God! That is sooo hot!” And off she went to get water or yogurt or some such. Like the various occupations my father had been part of, IT tends to be a very male-dominated field. Unlike being in the army, being a code toad does not lend itself to masculine he-man feats-of-strength credibility. So, when an opportunity comes along for IT guys to prove their masculine credentials, they tend to jump on it hard.
“Yeah, I think I’d like to try that,” Bill said. Bill came from a culture where mamas eat enough peppers that their breast milk probably runs 10,000 Scovilles. (His birth name was also not “Bill,” of course, but he used that since he figured nobody could pronounce his real name.) He loaded up a chip, stuffed it in his mouth, and began to chew. He turned a bit red and broke out in a sweat. After a bit, he swallowed and said. “Not bad. Maybe a bit bland. Has a slight bite, though.”
While women may not appreciate the subtleties of male culture and one-upmanship, every male would recognize in that a challenge, “If you can’t handle this sauce with aplomb, you should just put on a dress right now.”
My boss who had been a jock who had gone through college on a double athletic scholarship had to try it. He was half-Irish and half-Polish, neither culture being known for spicy foods. He was also in that peak time of proving one still has machismo as he approached his thirtieth birthday. He managed not to cough or choke as he got the chip down. He turned bright red, but said in a voice that was unusually high and squeaky for him, “I was expecting something hotter.”
I loaded up another chip and casually downed it, looking at the other guys at the table. They were all young, under thirty, and still stupid enough with testosterone that they couldn’t resist the challenge. All of them dug into that concoction. Each had to crank up the understatement on the next, and then they had to all go another round and then another.
None of them went into respiratory distress, although I suspect most of them regretted their adventure in manly hot sauce consumption within a few days as the pepper processed out of the far end of the alimentary canal.
And that is how I got rid of the rest of a sauce that I didn’t particularly like. It’s also part of how I got a reputation for being able to handle spicy foods.
Published in Group Writing
My first week of university, I had two things (a bag of popcorn and a juice) to eat, because I had never had jet lag before and couldn’t manage to be awake when I should have been eating in the US or to have an appetite when I needed to be eating in England. My roommate, who is from Northern China, took pity on me when one night I asked if there was anywhere around our university where you could buy Asian groceries, and promised she would take me the next day to get lunch and some food stuffs. I make copious amounts of Vietnamese and Thai food (mostly for myself, with far too much sriracha) at home, but my familiarity with Chinese food is mostly with Americanized Cantonese, so she and a friend had a very detailed conversation in Mandarin, stopping every few minuted to ask about my tolerance to particular staple spicy foods, about what they felt I could tolerate. When we arrived at the restaurant, the only word in English on the front of the establishment was Sichuan. I enjoy spicy food, but I suddenly felt that a very big mistake had just been made, considering that I hadn’t had any real food in six or seven days. Her boyfriend arrived, and they began ordering various dishes, while I stared in fear at things that weren’t translated (most of the menu) or translated in such a way that made me wish they weren’t (fungus and fermented offal come to mind). The first thing that arrived was some kind of pig trotter skewered on a branch, and coated in Sichuan pepper corns. I teared up a little gamely finishing my pig’s foot, because dear God it was hot, but by some miracle the numbing effects of the Sichuan peppers actually made it so that I could eat the rest of the meal with almost no discomfort. Her boyfriend declared that “you handle spicy better than any white person I ever meet”, which was especially kind considering I was seated next to this dish and too scared of dropping something on someone else to reach for any of the other options.
You do know how to have fun, kid. We had a great Thai place near one of the universities I went to. And another very good Chinese place. Oh, the spicy mustard. Clear the sinuses? That stuff would make one larger sinus (that might include the brain cavity).
When my wife and I went on the tour of the Jack Daniels distillery, we were told that Tabasco was aged in used Jack Daniels barrels.
The thing I like about super hot sauces is that you can make your chili hot with just a couple of drops which don’t change the flavor. Good luck with that using Tabasco.
True.
Great post! Some random thoughts.
Spicy food enjoyment comes in two flavors: those who love and can stand the heat, and those who enjoy watching those who can’t. An interesting interview show on YouTube is “First We Feast,” where the host and guest do a “pub crawl” of hot sauces from least to most spicy. Half the fun is wondering if they’ll make it to the end. The hottest sauces aren’t the most painful.
In college a favorite (mimeographed proto-) meme was the New Yorker judging a Texas chili cook-off . Juvenile but hilarious; it reminded me of Dave Barry. If you ever enjoyed a Warner Brothers cartoon character vomiting sheets of flame, you’ll feel right at home.
My dad likes the heat, but not to the point of pain. Although I’ve done my share of food-on-a-dare (Paqui’s One Chip Challenge, local restaurants serving Death Tacos) I learned from Indian coworkers and Korean neighbors to appreciate even the hottest peppers in small doses. I have a small tin of ghost pepper flakes; just three or four tiny flakes is enough to heat up a batch of chili and give it amazing fruity flavor, without going overboard. A single flake stirred around in a glass of water is a revelation; you can really taste the pepper, without pain.
I never want to know what to expect from oriental food, so I always use the oriental work for Random —–“Medium” . With medium you never know what you will get, could be mild and flavorless, or it could be radioactive.
I worked with a guy who ate a Habenero. Didn’t really bother him, but he knew exactly where it was until it passed. A Thai place called him the “House Dragon” because they never could make a dish too hot for him.
When I was in my twenties, I really didn’t seem to have much of a problem even as it processed. Now? Cod only knows.
I know what you mean.
Ah, if you knew Lucita like I knew Lucita …
… then don’t let her brothers find out, or no one will ever find your body.
Definitely not one that I ever knew.
Well, you could definitely get her stirred up. Then she was more heat than light.
Great Great tale!!
We would have been eating buddies back in the day!!
I’ve only ever grown chilitepins and Thai peppers, the small bright red ones. Chiltepins are pea-sized, so little flesh to seed ratio, 50,000-100,000 SHU. Thai peppers, with much more flesh, are in the same range, 50,000-100,000 SHU. I’ve kept some dried for years and found they are still potent flavoring agents in soups or liquid infusions.
This is an entry in June’s theme series: Hot Stuff!” We have a lot of open days as the summer season starts. Please stop by and sign up to share your own angle on the topic, however loosely construed.
I’m going to be a naysayer here. I don’t like a lot of heat in my food, and I don’t cook with very hot peppers. Period. If I need a phony demonstration of masculinity, I think I’ll drive a Corvette instead.
Corvettes are kind of hot cars. Should that be an entry in this month’s Hot Stuff theme?
Maybe. Or just sports cars in general.
You will hear some women say that fast cars are some kind of phallic substitute for men. You will never hear a man say that, because it’s just not true. The truth is that men like machines. They like power tools, and electronics, and especially cars. Cars are more than just a symbol of freedom and power. In a lot of ways, cars are freedom and power. I suppose that’s why the lefties hate them so much.
Oh, yeah… I suppose that having made a generalization I am now obliged by political correctness to add that the generalization does not apply to everyone. It’s a stereotype, but one with a lot of truth to it. So if you’re a woman who also likes fast cars – well, good for you.
I used to grow peppers on my front porch. I had Tabasco, Habanero, Cayenne, Anaheim, and Jalapeno going for a while. Unfortunately, I have a black thumb like my wife. I did manage to harvest over a couple of growing cycles before they died . . .
Love it!
For a while I was into peanut butter and sriracha sandwiches. I figured if spicy Thai peanut sauce is tasty, the combo could work on a sandwich. It wasn’t bad.
Pepper jellies are a favorite. A friend gave us a delicious homemade huckleberry habañero for Christmas.
You cats are making me hungry to try some of these things, but I can’t eat bread. I’m in frustration city here.
Local brew pub does a PBJ burger with pork belly, peanut butter and pepper jelly. Wife says it’s awesome (I can’t do sugar).
A bread – or more like a tortilla – alternative! I get these at Costco and have been saved. Keto had meant giving up sandwiches of all kinds – BLT’s, Meatloaf, etc. But these are fantastic! Microwave them for 1 minute and fold them over and you have a great taco shell!
Years ago (early 1990’s) a coworker of an acquaintance went to a bar that served burgers for lunch. He brought the burger back and my acquaintance saw it. There was a side of a chopped green vegetable with seeds, and my acquaintance reached across and grabbed some, “Oh, okra!”
It wasn’t okra. It was chopped Serrano peppers. He was rather unpleasantly surprised.
I can eat corn tortillas (and am doing so now), so don’t need to go to cheese tortillas that have been treated in Cod-alone knows what ways. Still, a PB & J is not the same on tortillas.
is it any bread, or just gluten/carbs? There are some interesting recipes for keto-friendly breads using nut flours, egg and cheese, and other alternatives.
My daughter can’t handle anything remotely spicy. I tease her about being sent to Mexico or somewhere like it for her mission.
Shauna,
I was an incredibly picky eater before my mission. My first taste of kimchi was a test of faith. I was deeply grateful that my food tolerance expanded in my time in Korea. The Lord looks kindly on (most) missionaries, considering what we often ate!
That is so true. I didn’t serve in a foreign country, but upstate New York was an eye opener! Missions are a great way to get out of the old comfort zone.