DON LAK HOT, HOT, HOT

Whenever I need a break, the choices can be collected into two main groups. Either combing either the boulevards of Paris and Rome or the white sandy beaches of a tropical island. Paris and another lunch at L’Arpege would have been a good choice except that too many thousands have just made the same choice and are already there. The same with Rome. The Caribbean, on the other hand, is in low season.

One of the best topical moments was sitting high above Magens Bay on St Thomas listening to Israel Kamakawiwoole, sipping 25-year-old Cruzan rum, and wondering if my taste buds will ever return to normal. While shopping for lunch I had a run in with Scotch Bonnets without even knowing it and, as any judge will tell you, ignorance is no defense.

In this case it was the law of knowing that around any roadside stands in the islands when you ask the stupid question “Is it hot,” the greater the silence, the hotter the chilies. And the greater the hooting, howling and laughter amongst the islanders after you leave, the more trouble you are in. 

But, of course, once you have bought the old Snapple bottles full of red sauce, or the one with red, yellow, green, orange and a few other-colored chilies in white vinegar, you just have to try it. You may circle them for hours, every piece of common and previous- experienced sense you have going overtime in your head with warnings. But sooner or later you are going to put a finger in one of those two bottles.

Photo Courtesy Uncommon Caribbean

In my case it was getting late enough so that the aquamarine waters of the bay below me had turned to dark robin’s egg blue as I finished 20 laps in the horizon pool between my two-pavilion villa. The pleasure high from the swim shut off the constant battering of the commonsense warnings and I stuck a finger in the red puree. 

The jungle around me has gone very quiet since my scream. If there had been howler monkeys in the trees, they wouldn’t bother to try howling again. They had been forever outdone.

The bottle fell to the counter and made a puddle which now I would like to have those thick gloves emergency workers wear when cleaning up an Ebola outbreak. But first there was the question of the emergency in my mouth. I wanted to squeeze a nearby whole tube of aloe vera sunburn cream in my mouth, but made do with cold half and half instead, since it was closest at hand in the refrigerator. That worked only to put me off cream forever as it warmed up and curdled in my mouth.

Nothing for it but to jump back in the pool and stick my mouth over the nozzle pumping re-chlorinated water back in it. 

That seemed to work. 

Hours later the jungle around the house was still very quiet. I think all the animals have gone down the road to howl and laugh with the very jolly ladies at the stand whose only reply to the heat question when I bought the sauce, was a long, slow and effective rolling of the eyes. 

All she said to me was “don lak hot, hot hot.” I still don’t know whether she meant me or her.

I just know they heard the scream. 

Steven Vranian’s Hellfire Sauce

Steven Vranian was the master grill chef at our Santa Fe Bar & Grill in Berkeley and then again a leader in the master team of Stars in San Francisco. He is now chef at Gianni’s in Wayzata, MN

Hellfire Sauce keeps for up to 3 months in the refrigerator.

6 fresh habanero chilies

2 cups freshly squeezed lime juice

3 tablespoons kosher salt

4 tablespoons brandy

1 teaspoon bitter (Angostura or Pechaud)

Cut the stems off the chilies. Wear gloves if you are chopping or use the food processor. In each case, be careful of your eyes. Rough chop the chilies, seeds and all. Wash your hands.

Put the lime juice and salt in a glass container like a preserving jar and shake to dissolve the salt. Add the chopped chilies, brandy, and bitters. Mix well.

Cover with cheesecloth and let sit at room temperature for 5 days. Strain, cover (or bottle), and refrigerate.

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