Sunday, 13 January 2008

Hot stuff

The Red Button Question is one that sorts the logical people from the impulsives. It goes like this: you come across a big red button marked "Do Not Press". There are no other instructions. What do you do?

Given that my random button pressing appears to have borked one out of the two PCs in this household (the big HP desktop that sits in the spare room making malevolent clicking noises), I think we can safely put me in the Press It Now And Hang The Consequences Club.

Another example of this came into play today. We went for lunch at the Orange Tree in Chadwick End. Katie tells me she likes to go there because of the menu - simple food done really well - and the informal surroundings. I actually think she likes it because she can take a table close to the entrance and pass judgement on people as they arrive:

"Oh wow, she must have been to Fringes-R-Us for that haircut."

"The Great Wall of China. And that forehead. Two things that are visible from orbit."

"Do you think she's wearing those shoes for a bet?"

Of course, this is bad behaviour. And it is wrong to do this. It is something with which I would never join in. Oh, sod it, OK, some people in the area must have got dressed in the dark this morning.

But the highpoint of the meal was when her tuna starter came out. Seared perfectly and served not only with pickled ginger but also some wasabi. I'd seen this legendary fiery paste on various cookery programmes - often with sushi - but never tried it. Everyone says it has a bit of a kick, but I've known heat before, being no stranger to curries of all sorts. So why not press that button?

"Can I try a bit of that?"
Katie said nothing, but gave me a look that said, "Go ahead, sunshine. But consider yourself warned."

My hand shot out and I got a smudge of wasabi on a fingertip. "Smudge" makes it sound like I had a viable amount, whilst in reality this was the sort of quantity with which molecular biologists deal on a daily basis. Delicately I let it rest on my tongue.

"Oh, it's not too bad. It's a little like horseradi...."

Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock.

"Holy crap," I croaked as my mouth turned to brimstone. I reached for my pint of Old Hooky. By this point my witty repartee was further reduced to "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod."

Half a pint later, I was dabbing the tears from my eyes with a napkin, wondering what manner of people eat that sort of thing for fun.

A little more considered thought in future, perhaps.

4 comments:

tNb said...

Welcome to the wasabi club, I think we all got initiated that way ... ohgodohgodohgodohgod

Tom said...

I am a big BIG wuss when it comes to hot stuff. Seriously. Once, I had this customer that grew his own chili peppers and made his own salsa. He brought in two of them and said "here try one. One's hotter than the other." Being young and stupid, I opted for the green one.

Wrong.

OMG I thought my face had melted off and I was a puddle on the floor. I was working, so there was not pint. Which, Ironically, is the ONLY thing that will stop the phosphorus, I mean, chili from burning.
So after quivering through about a thousand customers, there was nothing left of my face to burn off, so it quit.
He laughed and laughed.

I hate him to this day.

I won't be trying wasaabi. I hear they use it to clean up nuclear waste spills.

Tom said...

Oh and my favorite response to those that have blind personal shoppers is "... and she looked in the mirror this morning and said Damn! I look GOOD!"

City Girl said...

Local response: Bless her heart, she must not own a mirror.

Takes the edge off the judgementalism of the favorite sport of women: Mocking Other Women.

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