Mango Kuchela, Or How I Got Third Degree Burns On My Tongue

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This one came with a disclaimer. A note on my desk reads:

Brett: This may be so hot it kills you. --E.

I ponder whether this sticky note disclaimer would hold up in court. Then I realize if something I eat kills me, my family will surely be too embarrassed to even acknowledge I ever existed, much less sue in my name. But after the last "spicy" food debacle, it's hard to get worked up about this one, no matter how severe the Post-It foreshadowing.

The label reads Trinidad Best Mango Kuchela. Sounds slightly delicious. Mangoes are good and Kuchela sounds like a pretty Spanish name. Then I remember the yellow note and my eyes dart to the ingredients. Shredded green mangoes (couldn't even wait until they're ripe I see), Flavored mustard oil, Amchar Massala, Garlic, Yellow & Red Scotch Bonnet Peppers, Salt, Potassium Sorbate. Oh joy, scotch bonnet peppers.
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I figure since they're the fifth ingredient on the list, it can't be too bad. Hell there's more garlic than hot pepper in this brown-green mash. It looks like relish that's been left out in the sun for a few decades too long. I open the lid and take a deep breath, expecting a singeing of nose hairs. Instead, my nose is filled with a deep salty smell. I spend a few minutes agonizing of where I've smelled this before and I'm only able to narrow it down to a Chinese restaurant. "MSG." Without a moment's hesitation, the boss nails the smell exactly.

Once that particular mystery is solved, I decide to give this kuchela a shot. On the advice of John Linn, I spread some out on a cracker (not his exact advice, as he suggested flat bread, but I'm on a budget here) and bite down. The mango kuchela is soggy, dense, and garlicky. With the gritty consistency of microwaved cole slaw, the kuchela has a wholly unappealing texture.

The taste is not much better. What sweetness might have been in the unripened mangoes is decimated by the mustard oil and garlic. Most disappointingly, in my first bite there is only a mild tingling on my tongue from the peppers. After I swallow down the rest of the cracker, the heat picks up a bit, especially along the back of my throat. It's not anything uncomfortable, just enough to let me know it's there. Then I make a mistake I fear I'll be regretting for the next day or two.

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Feeling cocky, I take a heaping spoonful and pile it onto a cracker and bite down. Before I finish chewing the first bite, I take down the rest of the cracker and get ready to sit down and finish the day's work. Then it hits me. I bite down on a thicker slice of the green-brown mush and my tongue immediately catches fire. Before I can even yelp out in pain, my coworkers begin commenting on how red my face is turning. That's about the time I make my second big mistake. Rather than ignoring my ego and spitting the flaming substance in my mouth into the nearest trashcan, I close my eyes and swallow it down.

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Now I know what it's like to swallow a flaming hot dagger. The chunk of scotch bonnet pepper slowly makes its way down my throat, leaving a hot trail of napalm behind before igniting in my stomach. Now, a few hours after taking that fateful bite, I can only hope this rumbling in my stomach is temporary and somehow unrelated to the devil pepper swimming its way around.

Who should eat this? People tired of being able to taste, aspiring sword swallowers, and people in desperate need of flaming hot ipecac.

If you'd like to experience all the pain of scotch bonnet peppers with none of the pleasures of a delicious dish, I'd recommend buying a jar of Trinidad Best Mango Kuchela from Publix.