From LEO Weekly, 8/30/17
By Kevin Gibson
I remember the first time I tried a truly-hot pepper sauce. It was sometime during the late 1990s, at a local store I’ve long since forgotten the name of, a place where I’d previously purchased sauces that remain staples for me today, such as Blair’s Death Sauce and Pain is Good Batch 37 Garlic Sauce. The clerk said they’d just gotten in a new sauce from Blair’s, called After Death.
“It’s just a liiiiitle bit hotter than the Death Sauce,” he said, and then the lying bastard offered me a sample. I eagerly shook a couple of dabs onto a cracker, popped it into my mouth, and quickly descended into a frenzy of hiccups, tears and general misery. It was a miserable experience.
Naturally, I bought a bottle of the stuff.
Years later, I am still fascinated and oddly addicted to hot sauces, but I’ve learned my limits. I can eat a habanero pepper in the process of making my homemade sauces, and I can eat measured amounts of some extremely hot sauces, but I don’t mess with the ever-increasing levels of Scoville units, which is what measures capsaicin in peppers, determining their heat.