Where do you find the hottest green chile ever? Where do you go when that urge for pain is so great, that you are prepared and ready to venture to the forefront of the capsicum battleground?
Horseman’s Haven To The Rescue
The first time I attended the show for pain, breakfast to most people, was when a friend of mine suggested that we meet for breakfast. Emily Garcia is a pint size woman and one of the more successful realtor’s in Santa Fe, so when she made the pitch for quality, home made food, I jumped at the chance to follow the locals.
There is no pretense here. This small building is next to a gas station and located on Cerrillos Road, out of the way and it’s very easy to miss as it sits back from the road’s view. Inside though, is a menu of mouth watering food, some of which will make you weep.
Emily and I split steak and eggs our first visit, and she insisted the plate be smothered in green chile. I asked for an additional bowl of red chile on the side and got an appraising look from Emily.
The green chile was good, not too hot and the steak was perfectly cooked, though it was large enough that they served it on a small platter. Since the small cafe is close to my home, I have since met several people there and it has become one of my favorite places in Santa Fe for breakfast. Little did I know what awaited me the one morning I entered, feeling a bit feisty and ready for some real chile experiences.
I wanted something hotter.
I asked the waiter if they had some green chile that may have a little more heat. He smiled, appraised me in such a way as to wonder if he should call the paramedics before or after breakfast, and made a note on his small tablet. Fortunately, I was with another friend, a California transplant who had learned long ago what the effects of too much chile could do to a person’s digestive system. She winced at my request for hotter chile and looked visibly pained by my request.
I had ordered sausage and eggs with a smothering of the second level green chile. I would discover that this and another, third level, are reserved for true chile affection ado’s. These few people, these examples of ChileHood mastery should be enshrined, pictures posted on walls in every saloon and tavern across the southwest.
These men and women have stomach juice of aliens. I know this because my experience with the second level started with pain on my tongue, which soon traveled to my throat. Once sliding into my body, downward, awakening organs with green chile abandon, my urge for something hotter had now crossed the boundry.
Another bite, and one more, then once entering the proving ground, my stomach, remorse set in with high fervor and tears as my stomach began to spasm. I instantly had the flu, a hangover even before the fun was ever thought of. I know from a few anatomy classes that our bodies are equipped with defense systems, loaded and ready to expel the enemy and mine were at red, or should I say, green alert. Within minutes, I was trotting to the restroom.
People always ask me why New Mexico Chile Co doesn’t make really hot sauces. The scorching type that makes people trot off from the table, expelled from the normal, civilized group of people making up the sensible culinary community. I had a long time to think about it that particular morning.
