Twenty Star Town

I like spicy food. Spicy food is something that seems self-perpetuating, insofar as once one starts to eat spicy foods, milder food seems bland. Whether it's because of damage to taste buds, some sort of restructuring of the synapses or because of a decree of the Capscaicin Gods... it just seems to be a lobster trap (you can go in, but you can't get out).

I wasn't raised eating Korean food or spicy homemade chili. I enjoyed (and still do) Americanized Mexican food. I don't know where my penchant for spicy food came from. But it exists.

Maybe, actually, it's because I have a poor sense of taste and smell... non-spicy food just isn't strong enough. On the other hand, maybe my sense of taste and smell is poor because I've eaten so much spicy stuff over the decades of my existence. (It's like how I think... do I think as an attorney because I went to law school or did I go to law school because thinking as an attorney does was something I already did?)

Last night I was at a birthday dinner party for ... in Belltown. I had the distinct pleasure of being seated between ... , the birthday girl, and LOL. It was like Speed Dating all over again, with chicken satay with peanut sauce substituted for an awkward conversation with a female Coast Guard member.

When it was time to order food, the waitress was working her way (in an oddly unstructured order) around the table. LOL asked me the star/spiciness scale. I assumed it was up to five stars, but I promised her I'd ask... and after breaking the promise I made to attend HER birthday get-together some weeks back, I dared not let her down again.

I had planned to order n+1 stars, where n=max number of stars on the scale. There's a thrill involved (at least for me... maybe only for me) in getting slightly spicier than is the normal max. Plus I usually am able to consume it without a problem.

It was my turn to order, and the waitress and I had this exchange:

Me: What's the maximum stars in terms of spiciness?
Her: One to four star.
Me: Is it possible to get spicier? Like five stars? [Note to readers: solve for 3n/(n-2)]
Her: Oh, yes. You want more star?
Me: Sure. Like how high does it go?
Her: As high as you want to go.
Me: Like what? A hundred stars? Ten thousand?
Her: Oh... ten, twenty star.
Me: Well, however hot you can make it, thanks.
Her: Twenty star?
Me: Sure. Sounds good.

I've never been a person who says that he has no regrets in life. I make innumerable mistakes--great and small--on a fortnightly basis. It's rare, though, that I make this kind of mistake.

That shit was hot. One bite in and I knew I was in trouble. Strike that. Once glance at the seed-laden plate of pad see ew and I knew I was going to be in for some pain.

I think I got through about a seventh of it before I threw in the towel... not literally, because the napkin I had was too tear- and sweat-soaked to actually throw without risk of damaging a fellow restaurant patron.

I commandeered a second water glass and consumed about 10,000 fluid ounces of H2O to wash away the pain. My lips burned for the rest of the night (at least until the rum kicked in). I have the leftovers in my fridge, but they've got to be laughing their collective Thai-accented, noodle-based ass off, knowing that if and when I take another crack at it I'll just be putting myself through pain.

Best Thai food experience ever.