My boyfriend Ryan likes spicy food. He’s actually been known to eat wasabi paste straight out of the tube (in between tears and exclamations of “Damn!”). Me, I don’t like spicy foods at all (please pass the wussy-ass salsa, a.k.a. “ketchup”). However, I do like to garden. So, this year I thought I’d try meshing two of our favorite things and grow some hot peppers for Ryan. After all, if he loves jalapenos, what could be better than fresh-grown jalapenos straight from the garden? Besides, I heard that they were compact and easy to grow--perfect for my dinky patio garden.
We went to the garden store this past spring and bought a beautiful, hardy-looking jalapeno plant. The weather cooperated nicely during the month of May, and soon we had a big bushy plant with lots of small white flowers. We watched eagerly as the flowers fell and were replaced by baby jalapenos. I did my homework and found when to harvest the little guys (for those of you who are interested, that is when they’re still green--eventually they’ll turn red, but the flavor is stronger before they change color). Soon enough, the little fruits were about two inches long ,and ripe. I cut them off the plant, brought them inside, and let Ryan have his way with them.
The first crop yielded about five firm, green little jalapenos. Ryan found a book of salsa recipes on the Internet and took to the kitchen with glee. He mixed together a brilliantly colored salsa that made the whole house smell like a Mexican restaurant, and had a grand time. After much mixing in the kitchen, he showed me the final product proudly. This was our moment--In a way, it was as if our little jalapenos had grown up.
Ryan dipped a chip into his salsa and chomped into a generous bite. He choked. “Wow, that’s pretty hot!” he said in surprise as he crunched the rest of the chip. He ventured a second chip, and took a (slightly smaller) bite. As he crunched this one, his eyes were tearing. “Woo!” was all he said this time, and finished the chip. He left the salsa bowl, got himself a huge glass of water, and chugged it all down in one gulp. He was really crying now. His face and eyes were red. He got himself a second glass of water. “Damn!” was all he managed before he chugged that one down.
 About an hour and 12 glasses of water later, Ryan announced quietly, “Ok, my lips have finally stopped burning.” He looked sadly at the beautiful batch of salsa sitting innocently in a bowl on the kitchen counter. “I’m going to have to throw that out,” he said, “It’s too hot – I can’t eat it.” What? King of the Peppers, Master of the Tabasco, discovered a sauce that was too hot for him?
If I had doubted Ryan’s “too hot” verdict, the reaction at a recent company picnic more than convinced me. I brought along the second batch of jalapenos as a garnish to the burgers that were being cooked, per the request of some coworkers. Two coworkers garnished. The paramedics say they’ll probably be released in a few days.
What I don’t understand is, why are my jalapenos so hot? I didn’t try to make them blisteringly hot. (If I had tried, they’d probably be milder.) Really, I didn’t do anything! I just put the plant in a pot in the sun, gave it some water, and said, “Okay, that’s what you get… now grow!” To my amazement, it did grow–and it still is. Now I have at least a dozen ripe jalapenos and no one who will eat them! (Not even the birds, I noticed… hmm.)
Oh well, at least it’s a pretty plant. I guess next year I’ll stick to tomatoes and marigolds. And next year, I’m bringing chocolate chip cookies to the company picnic.
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