You know how recipes tell you to wear gloves when cutting jalapenos? Well, I’ve always ignored that, finding it unnecessary, and a bit wimpy. I’ve now moved my box of gloves that I use to dye my hair to the kitchen, so next time I decide to be cute and make K (the husband) dinner that involves jalapenos I can be spared.
I was being adorable, as usual, and decided to make K these Grilled Carne Asada Burritos with Mexican Street Fries and Pineapple Salsa. Sounds phenomenal right? Yeah, that was the plan, however, the damn jalapenos that are in the salsa had another idea, and cuteness was destroyed.
The meat was marinated, being grilled, everything was cut up for the pineapple salsa, and the street fries were in the oven, so things were looking awesome, and, I was all set up for points for being adorable. Then, AFTER washing my hands I itched the bottom of my nose. Within seconds I knew I’d just made a horrible, horrible mistake. I call K in from the grill, asking how to get rid of jalapeno burn. At this point I still have my cool, and am remaining calm, and holding back the tears. He has no idea. Ok, ok, that’s fine, I’ve heard milk will fix it. So, I pour milk into tupperware, wishing we drank whole milk rather than 2%, and put the tupperware up to my nose and soak my nose in milk.
It’s not working! So, I snort the milk, which was all sorts of adorable. As I’m snorting milk, and crying, K is over by the stove with his high pitched giggle, that means he’s laughing for real, just laughing at me. I angrily tell him to help, more like half yell, half cry, with milk bubbling out of my nose, to which he only laughs harder and comments on the epicness of the milk bubble coming out of my nose. I could have, and should have, punched him.
I ended up googling to try to find other ideas. I tried Coconut oil, up my nose, nope. Sour cream, nope. More milk, nope. Water, nope. Blowing my nose, nope. Only after applying at least 2 Tbsp. of yogurt UP my nose, and leaving it there for about 20 minutes, while it warmed up and dripped out onto my lips and chest in chunks, did I find relief, and did the burning subside.
K took care of the meat and the street fries as I tried to get this burning under control, and salvaged dinner, which I did not enjoy. The next day as I was doing the dishes from dinner, I discovered that there was still jalapeno hotness somewhere, as once I finished a cut on my thumb was on fire! I, of course, proceeded to put my thumb in my mouth, as an ow reaction, and then my tongue was on fire, and the misery just started over again.
K has become the official jalapeno chopper, and jalapeno dishes washer, as I stand and observer, from afar.
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