Some Like It Hot


Some Like It Hot

I made Fliss and I a vegetable stir fry the other night – firstly because I’ve had so much chicken recently I’m sure they think it’s some kind of vendetta, and secondly because we had vegetables to use up. I had the peppers, broad beans, bean sprouts, and baby corn things all sizzling away in a dash of olive oil shortly after getting home on Tuesday evening.

After a few minutes of said sizzling I added the sweet chilli sauce I’d picked up from Tesco’s on the way home and stuck the rice on. The contents of the wok didn’t smell too hot and at this point I actually thought it would have been a good idea to invite Graeme and Lisa around for the Super Foxy Stir Fry vegetarian option. It turned out to be a lucky escape for them.

Five minutes later, the food was on the plate, we were on the sofa, and the first mouthfulls were being munched upon. This is the point where we both discoved that the sauce was not quite the “sweet chilli” variety we’d been expecting.

This was like eating thermite cooked in lava.

We ow’d and ooh’d our way through the first few forkfulls, expecting it would level out. But it just kept getting hotter. Fliss was first to crack, making a break for the kitchen in an attempt to cool her blazing mouth. It’s rare that a spicey meal beats me, though – I even had the measure of that chilli chicken tikka that I’d had down in Ealing last August… even if I couldn’t talk for a while afterwards. It soon became apparent that soldiering on was pure folly on this occasion. My mouth was positively smouldering and I could feel the scorch marks all the way down to my stomach by this time.

To continue would have been madness – I dropped my fork and made for the kitchen, hoping that a glass of milk would at least lower the temperature. It did, but only just. I had to swill the milk around in my mouth for any relief, but as soon as I swallowed the burning sensation came back with a vengance. There was no way I was going back for more, but Fliss had had the idea of mixing her food with some sour cream and chives dip we had, so she took on what was left of hers. Obviously she was much more hungry than I was.

I decided to be pre-emptive right there and eat a couple of heart burn sweets. I should probably have eaten some bran flakes at the same time, too, but that’s probably getting too graphic. It kind of goes without saying that the exit was of a similar standard to the fiery entry.

Moral of the story? Tesco’s Finest Sweet Chilli Sauce is not to be fucked with.