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Post-pub nosh neckfiller: 1.5 MILLION SCOVILLE masala omelette
Napalm-grade hangover cure packs Carolina Reaper chillis
"Lester Haines is evil. Not once did he ever say, 'No Shax, don't do it'."
Those were the last words heard yesterday from Low Orbit Helium Assisted Navigator (LOHAN) rocket wrangler Paul "Shax" Shackleton after he recklessly took our post-pub nosh neckfiller recipe for masala omelette, added two Carolina Reaper chilli peppers to the mix and chowed down on the culinary equivalent of napalm.
Shax likes a touch of spice, so when he volunteered to put his digestive system to the ultimate test, I felt it would indeed be churlish to dissuade him, or to decline the offer of photographic evidence of the experiment.
So here it is, kicking off with some Carolina Reapers, rated at 1,569,300 Scoville Heat Units and boasting the Guinness World Record for the planet's hottest chillies:
To go with that you'll need some of this...
...as well as garam masala, ground cumin seeds and a smidge of ground chilli. Medical insurance is also recommended.
Shax takes up the story: "During cooking, the vapours were really noxious, and caused stinging eyes, sneezing, coughing; all pretty much run-of-the-mill symptoms of me cooking dinner. Windows were opened, copious amounts of kitchen roll were used to mop up the sweats and snot, but I battled on in the name of science..."
"After cooking, the omelette was served up in my "MAN bowl". Yes, it's a dog bowl for men, and thanks to my son Josh for the Crimbo prezzie. A quick squirt of Heinz tomato ketchup, and it was off to sample the fiery goodness. After all, you MUST have ketchup on an omelette."
"The first couple of forkfuls were pretty innocuous, merely hinting at the heat that was about to erupt. Then after a couple of minutes, BOOM, the burning caught me completely by surprise, and since I'm a dedicated chilli head, that says something about the excess of Scovilles."
"I could only manage about three-quarters of the meal, before I had to enlist the help of my glamorous assistant Harry (son number two, aka "skivvy"), to go and get me an urgent glass of milk to extinguish the flames in my mouth. I persisted with a couple more forkfuls, before admitting defeat with a cry of "Jesus, that burns" and an order for a further glass of semi-skimmed."
We've received no news today on Paul's current state, but last night he noted: "As for the upcoming 'exit' of the Reapers, I am hoping and praying I don’t have a bunghole like a sliced blood orange in the morning, but a khasi roll has been put on standby in the freezer, just in case."
We'd like to stress (or rather, our lawyers would like us to stress) that Shax partook of the Devil's omelette entirely of his own free will and without duress, and that accordingly we will not pay any invoices for digestive tract reconstructive surgery.
We will stump for a nice curry, though, just as soon as he gets out of the hospital. ®