While my grandson was at school, I decided to embark on a solo mission to take our spicy adventure to the next level. I made a special trip to the store and picked up an orange habanero, knowing full well that this little pepper packed a serious punch.
Before I left, I did some research on the Scoville Heat Units (SHU) of the habanero. I discovered that these fiery little peppers can range from 100,000 to 350,000 SHU, making them significantly hotter than the serrano and jalapeño we had previously tried. I knew we were in for a wild ride.
Still, when I picked up my grandson from school, I couldn't hide my excitement.
"I have a surprise for you," I told him with a grin. "A spicy treat!"
Mrs. Lincoln, who had come along for the ride, laughed knowingly. It should go without saying, but my wife has absolutely no problem with spicy food and can put us both to shame. In fact, the whole ordeal reminds me of when we were in Miami and tried some shishito peppers for the first time at a brewery.
Among the green peppers on the plate had been a single, ominous-looking red pepper. After a moment of hesitation, Mrs. Lincoln had reached for the red pepper and taken a bite, chewing thoughtfully.
“How is it?” I'd asked.
With an absolutely straight face, she'd declared, "It's not spicy at all."
Emboldened by her nonchalance, I'd followed suit and tried the red pepper myself. Big mistake. It was the hottest damned thing I'd ever tasted, and I was left sputtering and reaching for my beer to quench the fire in my mouth. Mrs. Lincoln, of course, had just laughed and laughed as I then proceeded to lather my tongue with ranch.
Anyway, back at home, I carefully cut up the habanero, and we each took a very tiny piece. My grandson, ever the adventurous one, popped it into his mouth and initially pronounced it very tasty. However, within seconds, his eyes bulged, and he spat the pepper out onto the table, exclaiming that it was incredibly hot.
Not to be outdone, I ate a small piece of the habanero as well. The heat was intense, and I immediately reached for the milk, gulping it down to soothe my burning tongue. It was clear that the habanero was in a league of its own compared to the peppers we had tried before.
My wife… had no problems at all.
Realizing that we had perhaps bitten off more than we could chew, literally and figuratively, we decided to put the habanero away for another time. It was a humbling experience, but also a reminder of the incredible intensity of the pepper world.
As we sat there, catching our breath and wiping the sweat from our brows, I put the habanero back in the fridge.
When it was safely stowed away for a time long from now, my grandson turned to me with a concerned look.
“Grandpa… how will we ever be able to eat the habanero? It was so hot.”
“Hmm,” I said as I mused over the puzzle. “Let me think about it.”