Mainlining Habaneros
When it comes to food, I like it spicy and hot. Give me peppers, baby. I like my mouth to burn while I eat. That endorphin rush is what I love.
I don’t care for pickled peppers. They aren’t as hot and the heat primarily affects the tongue. Fresh peppers release a more aromatic heat that dances with your soft palate and flirts shamelessly with your sinuses.
The jalapeno has been my pepper of choice for years now, but lately it’s been letting me down. Not hot enough. I don’t know if I’m developing a tolerance or if the peppers around here are milder this year because of all the rain. Probably a little of both.
Last week I was rummaging through the jalapenos in the produce section, but my eyes kept straying to the habanero peppers one bin over.
Habaneros are bright orange and look like little pumpkins. They're cute, but you should be careful. They’re like that effeminate swordsman in “Rob Roy”. They look dainty, but they will absolutely cut you to pieces.
The jalapeno rates as high as 10,000 on the Scoville heat index. The habanero tops the scale at 300,000. It’s the hottest pepper on the planet.*
I tried to resist. “Don’t get started with the habaneros”, I said to myself. “Don’t even go there.”
This is the sad story of chili pepper addiction. You begin with hot salsa and you end up wandering around border towns looking for the legendary Guatemalan Insanity Pepper.
I was weak and gave in to temptation. I bought one habanero, just in case the jalapenos didn’t get me where I wanted to be. Just in case, mind you. Just in case.
That night I enjoyed one of my favorite meals. Hard salami, a fresh baguette, and a jalapeno. One bite told me all I needed to know. This one had no heat. I might as well have been eating a bell pepper.
"I am so disappointed in you." I said to the jalapeno. I offered it to my dog, who sniffed it politely, but declined.
I went into the kitchen and nervously contemplated the habanero. Understand that I was afraid of this pepper. You aren’t even supposed to handle habaneros with your bare hands.
I sat the habanero on the counter and looked at it while stroking my chin. My wife walked by and said, “Ooh, pretty. What is it?”
"Habanero", I said, without taking my eyes off it.
I cut a tiny slice and ate it with a big mouthful of salami and bread. At first there was nothing. Then, just as I was beginning to wonder if the habanero was a fraud, the heat hit me. Let me tell you this pepper lives up to the full measure of its reputation.
Unbelievable that this much heat could come from one little bite.
"Yeah, Baby" I shouted in my Austin Powers voice.
My wife called out, "Who are you talking to?"
"Habanero", I said. She didn’t reply. After 18 years, she knows when to leave well enough alone.
I ended up eating the whole habanero and about a quarter pound of salami. I was in SUCH a good mood from the endorphins that I grabbed my wife and tried to do a little goofy waltzy thing right there in the kitchen. My habanero breath wasn’t doing much for her so she pounded me on the chest until I let her go.
I didn’t care. I kept on waltzing with an imaginary partner. I danced right out of the kitchen singing, “Come on Ilene, daaa da da Ilene, right this moment, da da everything…”
Oh habanero, oh baby. You hurt me so good.
The Preacher
*This is disputed by some, but the habanero is clearly the hottest pepper easily obtained and regularly consumed, though only by idiots.
9:42:51 PM 
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