Saturday was the church Trunk-or-Treat and annual chili cook off. This means that costumes have been worn. I will discuss this more in the coming days. Today I’ll be on a culinary, cautionary topic.
Generally speaking I don’t pay much attention to the chili cook off. I’ve never spent much time or bother working on my chili technique. I don’t know any secrets. I leave it to others and bring plenty of corn bread. I gave in a tried last year and my chili was a dismal failure. Seriously it was bad.
This year The Mr built a smoker. A few weeks ago he smoked a few chickens and the bones of said chickens produced some good smoky chicken broth. I thought to myself “This would be an excellent base upon which to build redeeming chili,” Thus it was decided that I would enter the cook off.
Saturday we were going about our business doing what needed to be done. I put the beans on to cook and they were smelling good and smoky. Before I knew it, the time had passed to begin the final compiling steps of the chili. The heat was on and I was rushing.
I put a pan on to heat while I diced jalapenos and onion. I was dicing as fast as I could. My haste dictated that I ignore certain jalapeno precautions as I chopped. I didn’t remove the seeds and membranes with my bare hands or anything but I was on the sloppy side. I wasn’t fast enough.
The oil in my pan burnt. I yelled “CRAP!” a bunch of times, yanked that pan off the heat and got out a fresh one. Dealing with the over hot pan and burnt oil could wait.
Meanwhile The Mr came to my rescue following my instructions while I finished prep work. At this point I decided to taste the beans. I plucked a bean off the end of the spoon and popped it in my mouth. It was pretty good. So I licked my fingers to get a sampling of the juice…then I started screaming. My fingers were thoroughly jalapenoed and now so was my mouth.
I dashed to the fridge grabbed the milk and drank from the jug. Drinking from the jug is entirely overrated. I don’t understand why anybody in a situation less dire than mine would do it. Drips collect on the outside edge of milk jugs and dry there. Now my lips and tongue were not only burning, they were also dotted with crusty milk bits. Very unpleasant.
Once I recovered, I left the compiling to the Mr and went off to dress the children in their costumes. We went to the party and had a good time. When the chili was judged (I didn’t win) the trunks were treated, and the games were played we packed up and came home.
2.5 hours had passed since my contact with the jalapeno. My middle finger was beginning to prickle. As time went by the prickle turned to a burn and spread to cover my three middle fingers. I stuffed my hand in a plastic cup full of milk and continued on ushering children into and out of the shower.
By the time I was singing lullabies I felt like I’d high fived a frying pan.
With my good hand I googled “soothe jalapeno burn.” Lime juice, butter, aloe vera, vaselene were all on the list of possible antidotes. I tried each in turn waiting as long as I could stand between them trying to give each a chance to kick in. Nothing helped.
By the time I was going to bed 5 hours after the chopping had occurred the sensation was headed back into the prickling stage, and by the time I woke up it was gone.
I’ll never be so lax with a pepper again.
I think though, that I was dealing with some kind of super mutant jalapeno. I’ve been that careless with them in the past and never felt anything like that. Also, as I was washing dishes between failed remedies I washed the discarded seeds of the foul little beast down the disposal and soon found myself choking and gasping as my throat burned from having apparently inhaled the pepper tainted disposal mist.
It was intense (like camping) and I don’t think entirely normal.
So, that’s the story.
In other news; today I took seven plus minutes of video of Duke feeding himself yogurt. If you are interested in viewing this captivating footage please let me know.
Over and out.