Today for lunch I had a vegetarian hotdog (don’t make fun)
with all the typical things we in the U.S. put on our hotdogs: mustard, neon
green relish (why is it that color?), tomato, pickle (in addition to the relish
which is, theoretically, made out of pickles), and-- because I am in Texas--
hot peppers. They weren’t chopped hot peppers or sliced hot peppers. They were
just two, cute little hot peppers, sitting on top of the dog. But their cuteness was deceiving. They were pretty hot.
Hot
peppers have grown in popularity in the U.S. in the past few years. Salsa is
supposedly the most popular condiment in the country now, overtaking the
long-reigning champion, ketchup (or catsup). The level of hotness of said
peppers depends a lot on where you are in the country. “Hot Salsa” way up north
can actually be very mild. It can taste like tomatoes with some other stuff
thrown in there. But “mild salsa” in Texas can sometimes still burn the paint
off the side of a barn. It just depends.
People often associate this spiciness with Mexican food.
And they should. Because they’ve got some hot shit down there. But I like hot
and have a pretty high tolerance. Not as high as someone in Mexico who eats hot peppers like breath mints. Not as high as my brother who has lived in
Texas for a very long time. But a decent level. I spent a Christmas in Mexico
several years ago. And as a vegetarian (with nary a veggie-dog in sight), I
often ate cheese enchiladas. Fantastic cheese enchiladas. Like here in Texas,
I could choose from different sauces to put on top of the enchiladas. Whereas
here green salsa (salsa verde) is typically pretty mild, in Mexico it has some
heat. So much, in fact, that waiters often questioned my order. Once, with my
friend Arturo (see blog post about Arturo’s family here) and I encountered such
a waiter.
“But it’s hot, Miss.”
-- Yes, I know. That’s okay. I want the salsa verde.
As if he had not understood a word of my Spanish he
responded,
“But it’s hot, Miss.”
--- Um, I know.
Don’t worry. I like it.
And then he looked at my friend as if to say, “Help
me out here, amigo. This gringa is trying to order the hottest sauce and she
doesn’t seem to understand the pain that is about to rain down upon her delicate güera constitution.”
And Arturo said, “Don’t worry. She knows.”
So salsa verde is what I got. It was hot, don’t get me
wrong. I could feel sweat beading up on my upper lip and under my eyes. But I
can take it, mi hijo. Está bien.
One thing to be aware of is that sometimes the tiniest of
peppers are the most deadly to your tongue. I had two such types of peppers in
Guatemala, only because the men of my host family were into spicy food.
Everyday, my host “mother” made a little bowl of salsa for her 93-year-old
father-in-law (go here to see a photo of Don Rafa). It was made with teeny, tiny green peppers that packed a real
punch. If there was any leftover at lunch (yes, he ate it for breakfast), she
would let me have it. Loved it!
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| These are one kind of hot little peppers I had in Guatemala. If you know what they're called, let me know in the comments |
Another time, for a graduation party, they had tamales. The
entire extended family was there and so was a mountain of tamales with various fillings.
There were a couple vegetarian choices, and I was enjoying one when I
discovered this little, skinny red pepper in the middle of my tamal. I pulled
it out, showed it to the family and announced that I was going to try it, positioning
the pepper in such a way that implied I was just going to pop the whole thing
into my mouth (and I was). In unison, they all yelled, “No, no, no! Poquito,
poquito.” So I took a tiny little taste and whoosh, a fire burned a trail down my throat.
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| Here I am, learning to make salsa from my hostess, Miriam. |
Once, I was having a Tex-Mex lunch with my
brother at a local chain restaurant in Austin called Serranos. Yes, after the pepper. They put an actual
serrano pepper on every plate. It is a larger pepper, not like the little
devils I had in Guatemala. So I thought it was more like a jalapeño, which for
me is on the mild side. On this day, I asked my brother, “Should I try this?” And
he just said, “If you want,” although I noticed he was not eating his serrano
pepper. Nevertheless, I took a little bite. Un poquito. But even before I
started chewing it, I had to spit it out. It was burning my entire mouth. Even
my teeth hurt. My teeth! I ate chips, chips and more chips. The burning
continued. And it remained for some time after. I hadn’t even chewed or
swallowed any of that pepper! Can you imagine if I had?
¡Ay chihuahua!
I don’t know how you feel about spicy food or hot food or
salsa picante. I have a friend who cannot take it at all. She hates it. I think
it tastes totally different to her taste buds than it does to mine. Because
even if it burns a bit, I like it. In any case, when you are traveling to other
lands, you may be surprised that there are things much, much hotter than the
Fire sauce packets at Taco Bell. Have fun and try as much as you can handle. But
beware that you may be biting off more than you can chew.
Happy Holidays to all of you! See you in 2013!
