My Jalapeno Love Affair by Derian Anderson, Pastry Kitchen
I don’t know when my mother’s love affair with spicy food began, but mine developed when I was a mere tadpole. She, by her own accounts, would make a run for the border everyday while she was pregnant with both me and my little brother. I remember, as a child, going to the “Bell” with my mom. She would grab handfuls of the little hot sauce packets and just like she would rip the tails off crawfish to suck out the spicy juice from their heads, she would tear the top off the packet with her teeth and suck out the firey goodness inside.
The first time I ever asked to eat one of the jalapenos my parents ate like candy on taco night, I was no older than 10. I ate one and dribbled the juice down my chin. I tried wiping it off with my hand, but only succeeded in shmearing it all over my mouth. My face was on fire for hours. I watched TV that evening with my lips submerged in a bowl of milk. It was horrible. And wonderful. After that, I was addicted. Now, like any good junkie, I need more. Bring the pain. I laugh in the face of five stars. I want seven peppers, give it to me Indian Hot, just gimme more.
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