I'm bringing spicy back....

Well actually it hasn't gone anywhere but the last few days I have been quite insane with my recklessness with spiciness. Before I get into a few tall tales of my historical relationship with peppers... I would like to precaution you... some of what you are about to read may disgust you... it may horrify you and in the end it may reach out and give you a case of the "ring of fire."

Growing up I wasn't necessarily consciously a nut about spicy things but I didn't really have a choice. My mom would make (and still makes) some of the spiciest curries I have ever encountered. When I was really little I would try to fight off the spice with cup after cup of water or milk or I would try to eat something quickly after dinner to quell my mouth pains. All foolish tactics I would later learn. Water basically only postpones the pain, milk makes you way to full and kills off the amazing after-taste of some dishes (I will sometimes not eat dessert just to keep an after-taste as long as humanly possible) and trying to eat something afterwards to ward off the pain? Just foolish. Often times the thing would be hard or crispy and would just feel like it was cutting my mouth all over the place. So what became my standard tactic you might ask? I would go outside, take deep breaths, and let my eyes and nose water and my head sweat. After a few times that feeling became almost euphoric (and still is!). At times the dishes were still bordering insanity but me and my sisters built up a tolerance.

It was then that I realized my mom's dishes were just a gateway drug into harder spices. The fried pepper challenge arose. My mom and grandma would fry giant and medium size red peppers every year and keep them in a jar in our kitchen. My sisters would began challenging me to eat as many as possible without drinking any water. I think the record was something like 8 or 9 back then. They are soooo delicious by the way and not as spicy as you would think they would be. They are actually more salty than spicy. Anyway, that is neither here nor there.

Middle school and high school were mostly a blur in my spice life, other than my Tabasco shooter before finals in high school. My sister got me a six pack of tiny Tabasco shooters and I would carry one in my backpack all the time. Before one final I took a shot and did well so I started doing that before all of them. Not gigantic shots, just a tiny taste to get me fired up. Who knew I was still no naive at this point in my life about spices?

Let's fast forward to freshman year in college. I was rushing Sigma Nu and one of our pledge events was to eat spicy chicken wings. Vik, Ziggy, and I laughed at this idea. We were all cocky in our abilities to eat spicy things and thought the older guys were going to feel stupid when we actually enjoyed eating the wings. So we got to the place and basically every older dude in my fraternity was on hand to watch the challenge. That worried me a little bit and then I got worried much, much more. One of the older guys went up to the counter and ordered 3 "911 Challenges." We were given 3 clipboards and 3 waivers to sign! WAIVERS! I kid you not. Most of the things on the waiver were written in a joking manner but I was still worried (things like, "if I touch my eyes and go blind...... if I need medical attention.... I will not hold Cluck U responsible). Anyway, we all looked at each other and I took a deep breath and then the wings came out.

You couldn't even see the wings in the paper boats. They were swimming in a thick black sauce and with them came these instructions from a waiter. "You guys have 10 minutes to eat all 12 wings. You cannot wipe your hands or your face and you cannot drink water for a full 5 minutes after you're done eating." Basically we were screwed. We grabbed the first wing and ate it down. Tasted like a normal wing..... oh wait that was until I felt horrible, painful burning all the way from my lips to my tongue then to my throat all the way down to my stomach. At this point my stomach was burning. I could still feel (with burning pain) the entire path of the wing. But on this day I was not going to back down. I grabbed another wing and sucked it down. As I grabbed my third wing something happened. My eyes and nose started to water. GLORIOUS euphoria I thought. But alas, that watering was followed by the numbing of my entire face and giant hiccups. My hands started to tremble. I still slowly moved the third wing toward my mouth but one of the older guys made me stop and I was done. Vik actually got through 3 wings, which is balls out in my book. I ran outside and threw up all over the place. I then drank about a gallon of milk and a tub of ice cream right in front of the joint. At this point, I was so shaken up that I couldn't safely drive home. I was basically wasted. When I got home I ran to the bathroom to puke some more and low and behold, Vik and Ziggy were already in the can puking their guts out. Want to know something disgusting? Yeah spicy chicken wings are even spicier when they splash into your eyes. My night ended with me passing out on the floor in the hall and my RA calling an EMT friend to come check me out. I had no idea that eating something spicy could actually kill you. I went to bed and vowed to never eat hot wings again.

Spicy eaters know full well that eating extremely spicy things is a commitment. You are committing to the meal itself, whatever stomach issues that might arise, and of course we always forget to think through the next day when spicy treats reenter the world. That morning, I was startled by Ziggy coming up to me and saying, "Whatever you do, don't take a shower. My hands... they're burning." What a crazy thing to say, I thought. Holy shit, my hands BURNED sooooo bad when I got into the shower. The felt like they were on fire. I ran to my room and called my grandma (I just had a feeling that she would know what to do), who calmly said, "Just put them in milk." (Well she said that in Konkani. She doesn't speak English remember?) So by noon, I had basically visited the "ring of fire" in the bathroom and I was sitting in the dining hall with my two hands in two cups of milk.

I guess the moral of the story here is that most foods you can enjoy at anytime and live in the moment. Spicy food on the other hand is not just food... it's a commitment and if you're not committed for the next 24 hours might unwillingly be visiting your good friend vlove at the "Ring of Fire." (Since I seem to have a summer home there.)