Pre(r)amble:
Growing up in a medium-sized Canadian prairie city, it's pretty easy to imagine that you're something of a chili badass without too many legitimate challengers. We have neither a climate hospitable to growing chilis year round nor a culinary tradition known for its heat. So you learn to eat and enjoy your jalapenos and serranos, your Tabasco (yech), Franks, Sriracha. Most of the novelty sauces are Franks knockoffs. You might come across something like Da Bomb - Beyond Insanity that knocks you ass over tea-kettle, but given the taste of that stuff, it's not so hard to dismiss.
Then you make the ego-deflating mistake of investigating hot sauce on the Internet, and you soon come to the realization that you're the Ned Flanders in this group. A chili wuss. So you either take your puck and go home, or you start pushing yourself. You set a training routine, drink it down by the bottle, start building up that tolerance. Then once the beer doesn't hit so hard, you work on eating hotter food.
In my case, I ordered a couple bottles of Yellow 7 Turkey Slap. I mention the history because I'm practically a chili virgin (and as you'll see in the postscript, I almost became a chili eunuch).
Taste/heat:
In the interest of being honest, I ought to admit that I'm still a bit of a faker. I picked up my bottles from the post office and stopped in at a local pub with my brother. He was eager to try the sauce. So, I didn't take a whole spoonful, is what I'm saying. I didn't do it entirely soberly, I'm admitting. I used beer, once in a while, to temporarily relocate the pain. I think I took about a 1/2 a spoon, or slightly less. Brother says he took 1/3 of what I had, though he might be trying to boost my obviously fragile sense of superiority.
It's delicious. The flavor hits a good bit before the heat, letting you appreciate it. I have no nose, I'm no judge of flavors. Let's say fruity. Whatever it was, it was really good. And hot. Somewhat surprisingly, it wasn't as hot as I expected, which is something like maybe-I'm-going-to-the-hospital-tonight. I had no idea. It's hot, but not too hot. I wouldn't want hotter, not yet. It's the worst kind of hot sauce: it's hot enough to punish you (well, me), but so good you're fiending after your next hit, even as you're barely pleateau-ing. Yellow 7 Turkey Slap gives me faith that the chili-head community isn't just a bunch of masochists trying to outdo each other. I love this sauce, and so have the friends I've shared it with.
Postscript:
The next night being Friday, I "ended up" at a pub. Having not had much to eat, I opted out early, to go home and have a bit of pizza, before continuing on to another gathering. My best idea of the week was to put a bit of Neill's Smoked Naga Powder on the pizza. Having never had a powder, I had no idea if it was just heat or also flavor. It's really, really tasty. A beautiful smoked flavor. I didn't put enough on to have a sense of the heat, which wasn't too strong. Fantastic stuff - I'm definitely going to be making powders.
The worst idea of the week was when I didn't sufficiently wash my hands before returning some of the evenings beer. An already too long review cut short: I slept with a cold, damp towel between my legs that night.
Growing up in a medium-sized Canadian prairie city, it's pretty easy to imagine that you're something of a chili badass without too many legitimate challengers. We have neither a climate hospitable to growing chilis year round nor a culinary tradition known for its heat. So you learn to eat and enjoy your jalapenos and serranos, your Tabasco (yech), Franks, Sriracha. Most of the novelty sauces are Franks knockoffs. You might come across something like Da Bomb - Beyond Insanity that knocks you ass over tea-kettle, but given the taste of that stuff, it's not so hard to dismiss.
Then you make the ego-deflating mistake of investigating hot sauce on the Internet, and you soon come to the realization that you're the Ned Flanders in this group. A chili wuss. So you either take your puck and go home, or you start pushing yourself. You set a training routine, drink it down by the bottle, start building up that tolerance. Then once the beer doesn't hit so hard, you work on eating hotter food.
In my case, I ordered a couple bottles of Yellow 7 Turkey Slap. I mention the history because I'm practically a chili virgin (and as you'll see in the postscript, I almost became a chili eunuch).
Taste/heat:
In the interest of being honest, I ought to admit that I'm still a bit of a faker. I picked up my bottles from the post office and stopped in at a local pub with my brother. He was eager to try the sauce. So, I didn't take a whole spoonful, is what I'm saying. I didn't do it entirely soberly, I'm admitting. I used beer, once in a while, to temporarily relocate the pain. I think I took about a 1/2 a spoon, or slightly less. Brother says he took 1/3 of what I had, though he might be trying to boost my obviously fragile sense of superiority.
It's delicious. The flavor hits a good bit before the heat, letting you appreciate it. I have no nose, I'm no judge of flavors. Let's say fruity. Whatever it was, it was really good. And hot. Somewhat surprisingly, it wasn't as hot as I expected, which is something like maybe-I'm-going-to-the-hospital-tonight. I had no idea. It's hot, but not too hot. I wouldn't want hotter, not yet. It's the worst kind of hot sauce: it's hot enough to punish you (well, me), but so good you're fiending after your next hit, even as you're barely pleateau-ing. Yellow 7 Turkey Slap gives me faith that the chili-head community isn't just a bunch of masochists trying to outdo each other. I love this sauce, and so have the friends I've shared it with.
Postscript:
The next night being Friday, I "ended up" at a pub. Having not had much to eat, I opted out early, to go home and have a bit of pizza, before continuing on to another gathering. My best idea of the week was to put a bit of Neill's Smoked Naga Powder on the pizza. Having never had a powder, I had no idea if it was just heat or also flavor. It's really, really tasty. A beautiful smoked flavor. I didn't put enough on to have a sense of the heat, which wasn't too strong. Fantastic stuff - I'm definitely going to be making powders.
The worst idea of the week was when I didn't sufficiently wash my hands before returning some of the evenings beer. An already too long review cut short: I slept with a cold, damp towel between my legs that night.
