![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceBeing busy like a very busy thing (150 pages of revisions still to go, when I'd hoped to have finished by tomorrow...), I have thrown together my ultimate comfort food for tonight and nights subsequent: half an hour in the kitchen has left a big pot of chilli bubbling. Pork belly with onions and leeks, garlic and celery, and yellow split peas for pulsy substance. Hot smoked paprika for extra spiciness, along with a chipotle and a couple of dried habanero - but the real heat, the real treat is coming from my grandchildren.
Five years ago, I grew a number of red mazano chillies from seed. They were my favourite plants ever, and produced my favourite crop (see the icon? See the big round green fruits? Those are unripe; picture the same deeply red. With black seeds, and a fierce heat). Alas, I had too many for my windowsills to bear; so I gave one away to a friend. With a conservatory.
Five years on, my own plants are a distant cat-killed memory. His? Still thriving. Every year it flourisheth and bears new fruits. Of startlingly different temper (I love this about chillies, that the same plant even in the same year can produce fruits of utterly different heatliness. Hottitude. Whatever). He brought me the last couple of the latest crop for my party on Sunday (something else I love about chillies, that they will keep fruit fresh on the bough for months). This particular crop is hot, I deem; I may not have needed those habaneros...
Five years ago, I grew a number of red mazano chillies from seed. They were my favourite plants ever, and produced my favourite crop (see the icon? See the big round green fruits? Those are unripe; picture the same deeply red. With black seeds, and a fierce heat). Alas, I had too many for my windowsills to bear; so I gave one away to a friend. With a conservatory.
Five years on, my own plants are a distant cat-killed memory. His? Still thriving. Every year it flourisheth and bears new fruits. Of startlingly different temper (I love this about chillies, that the same plant even in the same year can produce fruits of utterly different heatliness. Hottitude. Whatever). He brought me the last couple of the latest crop for my party on Sunday (something else I love about chillies, that they will keep fruit fresh on the bough for months). This particular crop is hot, I deem; I may not have needed those habaneros...