There are three cuisines where I'm leery of the spice level: Thai, Indian, and Cajun. I routinely disregard the "caution: spicy" notation on the menu of any other restaurant.
While Filipino dishes can be really well seasoned, they're not known for blistering the roof of your mouth. Even so, I wasn't born with an asbestos palette, and like everyone else in the Scoville Brotherhood, I had to be eased into the lifestyle.
Mom has always used peppercorns liberally in her cooking. As a preschooler, I bit into one for the first time and the sharp peppery bitterness caused me to contort my face. Mom noticed I was suddenly having a bad day and asked, "What just happened?"
"I bit into something hard." After chugging down my drink, I emphatically declared between hyperventilated breaths, "I didn't like it!" Mom realized the cause of my distress.
"Easy there. Drink this." She refilled my glass and was now curious. "Can you describe the taste?" Unable to verbalize that I didn't (yet) like spicy food, and not able to think straight because of the weird, lingering burn in my mouth, I delivered a simple verdict.
"Ugly."
Like many who grew up just outside bayou country, my first exposure to a real-life Cajun was Justin Wilson. Along with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Ross, Chef Wilson was another favorite in my PBS lineup (Bob Villa was in the mix, too, but that's another post.) Besides, we only had 6 broadcast channels and my other options were daytime soaps.
In his trademark red tie and suspenders, Justin Wilson came across as a kindly, down to earth guy. He was like a favorite uncle who always had a story ready for any occasion. Along with spinning a yarn, Chef liked his glass of wine and his spices. As he prepared a dish, a common scene would be him adding the requisite amount of seasoning. He then paused, looked straight at the camera, gave a sly wink and smile, and continued dosing out the pepper.
When we moved to Island View in Long Beach, our next-door neighbors, the Mayos, were Cajuns who were great salt of the earth people. One day, Dad was tending to his garden, where he grew among other things, Filipino peppers. Mr. Mayo sauntered over to the fence between our properties, "Hey, Greg, whatcha got there?"
Dad thought he'd have a little fun. "Just picking some of these peppers. Want to try some?" He handed the bowl over to Mr. Mayo. "These shouldn't be a problem for you - they're pretty mild." The peppers dad handed over were not mild. While not crazy, scorching hot, they packed a punch. Mr. Mayo took a few and popped them into his mouth like they were Tic Tacs. Dad waited a moment, trying to suppress a smile, but he was soon disappointed and impressed.
"Yeah. You're right, Greg. These are mild."
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