By RANDY RENDFELD
I love spicy hot food, but I’m not a masochist. Peppers should add flavor and not just heat. But that’s apparently not the culinary criteria for 510 reviewers of Dave’s Ghost Pepper Naga Jolokia Hot Sauce on Amazon.com. These reviewers like the near-death experiences this nuclear hell sauce delivers. As I write this, the Scoville heat-unit ratings are going up on hot peppers generally. Newer varieties can deliver even more military-grade assaults on your palate. (For example: http://eatsblog.dallasnews.com/2013/10/you-think-ghost-peppers-are-the-hottest-not-even-close-says-the-new-yorker.html/). Below are a few excerpts from these Amazon reviews of Dave’s sauce:
* Pocket your manhood and beware.
* If HGTV did a makeover of Satan’s house they’d probably paint the living room with this stuff for the color.
* Five minutes later, I seriously began to fear for the integrity of my eyeballs. Could spicy food really make them melt? And someone had put the surface of the sun in my stomach. There was no question. We had achieved internal nuclear fusion. … This sauce is not a joke. It should never be used to prank anyone. Period.
* My boyfriend bitched for many years there wasn’t a hot sauce hot enough for him. Until I bought the ghost pepper sauce. He will never say it again. I win.
* My brother doubted its powers so I poked the end of a toothpick into the sauce and gave it to him. The poor guy freaked and ate more Italian bread than I’ve ever seen anyone eat in my life. This bottle will last you a long time. Why doesn’t it get 5 stars? It’s just too hot.
* A few hours ago, I put a dime-sized dab of this sauce on a corn chip and scarfed it down. … It began to feel as if my tongue were being electrocuted. My eyes began to sting and my lips went numb. The ecstasy brought about by eating spicy food poured up out of my mouth and into my head. I laid down and the dog started to act very worried. While prostrate, I focused on the pain and stared into the darkness of my own eyelids. Every little thing becomes significant when the mind is seeking relief from pain. I do not know what will happen when this stuff makes its way through my digestive tract. I’ll be eating more soon.
* Four grown men with red faces, streaming eyes and snot flying into the wind as they gasp and wheeze down the road, driven by the fires of hell itself. … They burst into the corner store as one drunken, moaning entity of pure thirst and claw their way to the milk. With wild abandon, they forego such modern niceties as payment and immediately pour gallons of soothing white manna into their gaping, flaming maws. They sink to the floor in the silent thanks of men spared the gallows. One thought lingers in their minds: “That guac sure was tasty.”
* “What?!” I exclaimed, and got up and ran to the restroom where, sure enough, my deep brown skin (I’m Filipino) was starting to turn a reddish brown, probably from the increased blood flow. I splashed water on my face several times to try to cool down, then wet some paper towels to put on my neck during the meeting. And there I sat, absolutely miserable in the meeting, seemingly cooking in my seat. I’m surprised that no steam was rising from the wet paper towels. That meeting couldn’t be over sooner.
* I walked no more than a block before I started to feel odd. It was in the 40s in Cleveland but I could feel the sweat forming on my brow. I walked another block and I could literally feel the burning sensation outlining my stomach. My breaths were noticeably faster and shorter. People on the street looked at me weird. I figured it would go away by the time I got home but I decided to pick up the pace. By the time my apartment was in sight I was experiencing tunnel vision. … I can honestly say I am just happy to be alive. This sauce is not for mortals.
* Drawn like Prometheus to the flames… I ate it … and like Icarus felt the sun melt away my wings of wax. Lo, I plummeted to earth only to seek God’s grace for my sins.
For more peppery fire: http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/11/04/fire-eaters
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