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desperanceThere must surely be a law which states that whenever a person is chopping potent chillies, their eye will start to itch.
Fortunately, I still have enough sense of self-preservation - even with these denatured habaneri* - to resist that particular impulse. (Tho' I do still sneer at those packeted chillies that demand to be handled with rubber gloves. Um, no. Naked fingers, and remember to wash your hands after, if they were seriously hot. That's all it takes. How could you cook in rubber gloves? Food is for feeling, inter alia.)
* Yes indeed, I am trying to grow my own habaneri, now that I can no longer trust the name on produce shelves. It's not as easy as I thought it would be; those I planted out are still alive, but ridiculously stunted. Even those I held back until May. I have one in a pot in a window, but the window faces east and come noon it's falling into shade. Mostly I either forget to bring it out into the sun's heat, or else I forget to put it back as night falls. I am not a good shepherd, me.
Fortunately, I still have enough sense of self-preservation - even with these denatured habaneri* - to resist that particular impulse. (Tho' I do still sneer at those packeted chillies that demand to be handled with rubber gloves. Um, no. Naked fingers, and remember to wash your hands after, if they were seriously hot. That's all it takes. How could you cook in rubber gloves? Food is for feeling, inter alia.)
* Yes indeed, I am trying to grow my own habaneri, now that I can no longer trust the name on produce shelves. It's not as easy as I thought it would be; those I planted out are still alive, but ridiculously stunted. Even those I held back until May. I have one in a pot in a window, but the window faces east and come noon it's falling into shade. Mostly I either forget to bring it out into the sun's heat, or else I forget to put it back as night falls. I am not a good shepherd, me.