A couple of months back, I went to a Chilli Fiesta in town. Hubby loves chillis: I fell out with them last year after I applied something called Capsaicin cream (a herbal medicine extracted from chillis) to my skin after starting with flu and aching muscles. I’d figured some heat might help. Like a bath. Or a hot water bottle. Or some deep heat. We didn’t have any Vix so I grabbed something called Capsaicin Cream from our medicine cabinet (I think we inherited a tube from my mother-in-law when she’d ordered a batch too man to help with her arthritis or something).
Anyway, too ill and impatient to bother reading the instructions, I squeezed a blob out of the tube and slapped it onto both thighs, rubbing and smearing it all over. I could feel it getting warmer and tingling as I flicked on the telly in my bedroom whilst the seconds ticked by…
I lay on the bed and 5 mins later hubby came up to see if I wanted a glass of water.
‘Yes, for my f*****leg’, I yelled at him. ‘My legs on fire! Here, gimme that glass’, I yelled, chucking the water over my flaming leg. ‘How the fluff did your mum use this stuff? It’s like molten lava on my thigh…’.
Three cold flannels later, and my own personal fireman had extinguished the burn and finally retreated back down his pole to shout at the telly (rugby, I believe), but 5 minutes later, he was back up.
‘Hey’, he enquired, ‘Have you got the game on up here?’ (Evidently, he’d heard me through the ceiling roaring in tune to his own cheers downstairs and naively assumed we were both synchronised in our passion for the rugby try line).
‘Have I chuffing hell!’, I roared. ‘I’m blind…help me, I’m ******* blind! I’ve got chilli in my eye. I’ve touched my mouth too and now my tongue’s on fire’, I panted. ‘Quick, gimme water…more water….GIVE. ME. WAAATTTEEEERRRRRR…’
Melanie 0 – Chilli 1
It gets everywhere.
But hubby likes it, and I’d seen that there might be someone at this Chilli Fiesta in town selling Chilli Vodka. (Having been quite partial to the initial burn of a shot of neat vodka on rare occasions -Christmas, funerals mainly- I figured an extra kick of chilli in alcohol could surely only enhance it’s magic warm glow, so I was willing to overcome my fear of it for the love of a good drink.
There was a range of stalls at the Chilli Fiesta selling chilli jam, more chilli jam, and some chilli chocolate. (The vodka man let me down –I’m surprised because we’re a town of raging alcoholics. Perhaps those at the top put a stop to the sober townsfolk getting pissed up as they’re busy enough already dealing with the daily tipplers brigade?)
‘Here. Taste this’, said hubby, offering me a taste of chocolate from a sample board on display.
‘Er, no. Is it hot?’
‘Nah. Quite mild…’ He seemed convincing, so I placed a tiny square tentatively on my tongue…
10 seconds later.
‘Arrrrgghhh, you lying little sh**’, I spat it out onto the floor and began jumping around like an ostrich that had been shot, much to his amusement.
Melanie 0 – Husband 1
So last week, I thought I’d get some revenge. I’d noticed an advert for a Hotter than Hell pizza doing the rounds during the Halloween period and I figured a bit of hotter than hot pizza might be good for a laugh.
I’d set about following a recipe for a spicy pizza topping: 125 ml of passata, a clove of crushed garlic, a handful of fresh chopped basil, 125 g of fresh mozerella, 100 grams of chorizo, 1 red pepper, sliced and 1 chilli, chopped.
Except I threw on a bit extra of everything.
And about triple of the spicy stuff on the corner of the pizza reserved for him to ‘sample’. (Ha, he’d need safety goggles and latex gloves to eat this slice!) Was I really wicked enough to let hubby undertake the secret challenge I was about to bestow upon him?
Too right I was.
Besides, he had a good pallet for even the hottest of curries, so with that in mind, he’d probably walk it.
I cooked the pizza. The crust looked done and the cheese more-so.
‘Careful, it’s hot’, I said, being totally, genuinely sincere, as I served it up. I meant the cheese. The cheese all over the pizza was hot. It had been under the grill on Gas Mark 7 and had been bubbling away for a good ten minutes at least.
But it was too late. He’d already bit into it and as he pulled the cheese I think it must have stuck to the roof of his mouth or something and the whole of the top layer of cheese slid off the top of the pizza (too much sauce??) and stuck to his chin.
‘Ah..hhh..aarhhg…arrrgggghh’, he tried to snatch off the cheese burning his chin only for his hand to then catch on to the unfortunate discovery that it was scalding hot! After getting a nasty sizzle to his hand he tried quickly to flick the cheese back onto the plate. Without any success.
‘Ooohh…ooooh..shit..shit’, yelped the proud new owner of 2 chin blisters (and a few more expletives followed whilst he continued in his failed bid to detach boiling hot cheese from his fingers!)
Well. That hadn’t really gone to plan.
‘Ooo…er..’ I’m sorry’, I yelped back, feeling hideous, and running for the cold wet flannels. It was supposed to be a ‘Man versus Chilli’ challenge, not ‘Man versus 3rd degree burns due to scolding hot cheese to the chin’. I could hardly go on to confess about my secret chilli pizza antics now, could I? ‘Here, gimme that’, I said, sabotaging my secret challenge by quickly discarding the extra hot chilli slice and chucking it swiftly in the bin.
Hubster recovered slowly. He was in a really bad mood for well over an hour and seemed completely pissed off with my culinary skills.
‘I was really looking forward to that pizza’, he sulked, during recovery. ‘Where did you put the rest of it anyhow?’
Sheepishly and dutifully, I retrieved the remaining pizza from the kitchen (minus the extra hot chilli slice, of course) and hubster happily washed it down with a cold beer.
Melanie 1 – Husband and Chilli 0
P.S. Hey, it could have been worse. People have died eating chillis. Full blown cardiac arrests and writhing around on the floor after live streaming themselves drinking chilli oil and all sorts. What’s a little burnt chin between husband and wife x