I thought I would indulge my picante side by cooking up some chicken and beans to be lovingly wrapped in tortillas. Somewhere in one of my cooking adventures, I picked up the technique of infusing oil by first cooking a hot pepper and then adding the other ingredients. And one lesson I learn over and over is that moderation is a virtue in many things, but especially in cooking. I seemed to forget that lesson tonight because I decided if one jalapeño is good, three jalapeños would be better.
My little experiment was fine. The wraps were a bit spicier than I had intended, but I had no trouble eating two of them for dinner out in the hot tub. I mention the hot tub only because after I was done eating, I touched my cheek and got the strangest burning sensation. That should have been a warning that I had set several pepper traps during my meal preparation. I was smart enough to be very careful what I touched. (I have made the eye rubbing error before.)
The big impact was when I walked into the house. The moment I opened the door, I felt as if I had been maced. Apparently, I managed to get enough of the pepper oil atomized during my oil infusion that it spread through the house just waiting for its next victim -- me. The dog would not even come into the house. Fortunately, I was able to pull most of the smell out of the house using the stove fan.
All told -- a great culinary experiment.
P.S. It is now Monday morning, the mace cloud has lifted, and I am enjoying the last serving of pollo picante for breakfast. It appears that resting in the refrigerator has caused its heat to dissipate. No hay remedio. (I assure you it tasted much better than this ominous photograph would indicate.)
