|This is what demon spices look like.|
I don't get the whole extreme food (or extreme anything) trend. Like overly preachy or overly folksy cooking shows, that nonsense sucks the joy out of cooking and eating. When you have to wear gloves--and possibly a mask--to cut or chop a pepper, it's too hot.
I once chopped Jalepenos for some salsa I was making, and some of the juice sprayed onto my face. I'm not joking when I say that the place where it hit burned for about 30 minutes. I can't imagine how horrible it would have been if it had hit my eye (I once got black pepper in my eye--somehow--when I was a kid and I refused to touch the stuff for years after). Can you imagine how horrible it would be if it was a Naga pepper? Ugh.
The East Coast Grill in Cambridge, MA has capitalized on the masochistic streak of some people, and serves a pasta dish made from this nasty little hybrid one week out of the year. They call that week Hell Week. And it's Hell Week this week. You want a plate of the sadistic pasta? You have to sign a waiver. For real. No thanks! I like enjoying my food.
I'll have to revise what I said about friends and dinner yesterday--I am happy to eat whatever you serve me. As long as what you serve me won't make me pass out, cry, or do serious physical damage as it goes down.
Note to friends: no Naga peppers, okay?