Today was full of interesting and exciting emails.

Received the following email from E this morning in response to yesterday’s post.

G and I went to Brick Lane with some people last year.  It was a stupid kinda-forced coworker contest in which a bunch of us were going to prove what competitive folks we were by eating the world’s hottest curry.

What a disappointment.

Six of us completed the curry.  I’m convinced that it’s possible to eat a reasonable quantity of anything if one is committed to doing so.  But the phaal wasn’t even that difficult.  Honestly, it wasn’t even that HOT – I think there’s a point of numbness at which the tongue is completely saturated with hot pepper oils and anything else just slides through like it was never there.  Like how only the first 6 donuts consumed within a 3-hour period count, and the body raises the white flag and doesn’t even try to digest 7-12.

Anyway, the Phaal curry was just horrific.  It had absolutely zero taste to it – it didn’t even have hot flavor, exactly (probably too little salt), just essence of hot (which, again, wasn’t horrifically painful but was thoroughly unappetizing).

The rewards for completing the “Phaal challenge” were a small certificate, little satisfaction, and a few hours’ worth of gastrointestinal distress.  G and I didn’t even submit our names and photos to the online Phaal of Fame so that we would not be responsible for perpetuating this scam.

In conclusion, I request that at some point you alert your loyal readers that Phaal curry is enthusiastically not recommended.

If folks are interested in a hot-food challenge, I suggest throwing back a shaker full of red pepper flakes at a pizza joint.  This classic of high school sports team freshman hazing is a) cheaper, b) quicker, c) involves a greater sacrifice (taste buds deadened and mucus flowing freely from the soft palate for a week!).

Then, I received this lovely email from roommate L later this afternoon:

As promised…your birfday gift.  Part of this gift is that I will cook these for you at any time of your choosing in any method you see fit. If you come up to me this weekend and say “L, I want to have a steak tartar sushi banquet on my naked body, Japanese business man style, your wish will be my command.

DERICIOUS STEAKS

Followed by the following dericious email:

This is waiting for you when you get back home

Bloody Mary with Bacon

… and yes that is a bloody mary with bacon in it.