Lesson Learned

So, backing up to my cousin's wedding a couple of weeks ago, I wanted to record some wisdom I have recently gained. Mainly, because I am sure to make this mistake again.

For the family BBQ the night before I made these yummy jalapenos filled with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon. Serious yummage. And every time I make them, I slice the jalapenos in half lengthwise and scrape out the ultra-hot innards so you just get the flavor. The finished product has a little bit of heat, but even the wussiest of my family members will eat them. And, every time I make them, I handle the jalapenos with my bare hands with no problems.

This time things turned out a little different.

I made them as usual. As I was taking them off the baking rack, I snuck a bit of fallen cream cheese. My mouth burned with the flames of a thousand fires. I figured I just got an unusually hot one.

So we took them to the BBQ where I unleashed them on my unsuspecting family. I am surprised that all of them still talk to me. While my "bring on the hot stuff cuz I have no nerve endings in my tongue and mouth" cousin and husband loved them, from my aunt and sister-in-law I heard muffled shouts as they ran (literally - they jumped up and ran, holding their mouths) in the house to the kitchen for some milk.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. I woke up and thought I had some nerve damage in my hands. They burned with the flames of a thousand fires. Are you familiar with Dune? With the Gom Jabbar? I literally had to look at my hands to make sure that the flesh was not burning off of them. Apparently, that is why you wear gloves with jalapenos. Turning to my mother for help, her comforting statement was, "that is why you wear gloves with jalapenos." Clearly, I had to go somewhere else to ease the burn. Incidentally, ibuprofen does nothing for this kind of pain. Searching the website/blog where I got the recipe, I discovered that she had done the exact same thing and also went crying to her mom. She recommended rubbing the affected areas with a lemon. So, I grabbed the lemon juice out of the fridge and poured in on my hands. Brief relief. Feeding Ben was killing me since anything that made my hands physically warmer increased the intensity of the pain. Ultimately, I held an ice pack with my hands in the car all the way to the temple. The pain of the cold was a blessed relief from the flames of a thousand fires.