...I'm feelin' hot, hot, hot.....
A quick shout out to Buster Poindexter. While I, in my entirety, am not necessarily feelin' hot, hot, hot, my hand is....and so the story begins. We had an Indie family celebration yesterday. As with most of our food-centric celebrations (mom's birthday), the presence of stuffed jalapenos was required.
These fiery little gems are a great treat among the family. Jalapenos, sliced in half, seeded, stuffed with cream cheese and a pepper size piece of turkey bacon across the cream cheese. They are baked and topped off with the broiler. Sweet, a little heat, tangy and crispy. Pepper goodness. They don't last long.
Anyway, it was my responsibility to bring the peppers for the party. Never a big deal. I got everything together and proceeded to prepare them. I generally wear gloves while slicing and scooping out seeds. However, I was at my sister's, forgot my gloves, and I was in a hurry.
I bare-handed the peppers, holding them in the left hand, while cutting out the seeds with a knife in my right hand. No big deal. Got them cleaned, stuffed and in the oven. Family gathers, peppers are done. We have lunch. My 7 year old nephew polishes off 3 of the slices. All is good.
I go home. Around 9:00 p.m. I have the distinct sensation of my left hand burning. Nothing painful, just an annoying feeling. By 10:00, my hand is on fire. The jalapeno oils have coated my hand, even though it was washed multiple times. I resort to soaking my hand in milk. I know you're supposed to drink milk if you eat a hot pepper. It helps with the burn. Nope, didn't work.
I finally ignore the sensation, go to sleep. This morning, it's still on fire. Come to find out, I'm not the first person to experience "jalapeno hand." The latest remedy I've heard is to use stainless steel. Yes, that's something I keep on hand for situations like this.
If only I had remembered my gloves, I would not be relegated to the break room with my hand in the sink.