Mysweet has spent a couple of hours in the greenhouse harvesting our endorphin stimulants.
He has planted several different varities from last year's seeds, still searching for the ultimate pepper which can generate corrosive fluids in our wet and sunless climate.
We live in a tall house, which means that when I once cooked chilis and Darling d was in her bedroom with friends, I became aware of screaming as they all rushed out into the garden coughing and spluttering from the fumes. We like our chilis hot.
So we were holding our breath for lots of different reasons as Mysweet stirred and muttered over his cauldrons yesterday afternoon and made his chili sauces.
I think he can claim a success, especially the sauce which includes roast garlic and honey, which we had with dinner. As I write, I can count 13 jam jars on the kitchen table, full of dangerous fiery red stuff. That should last us a week or maybe two...
So far he seems to have avoided injuring his own scotch bonnet - last year he had a small problem after touching the vicious brutes.