Last night the people in the apartment downstairs had a party.
They weren’t overly loud as such, but the volume level was certainly high enough to remind us that they have abominable taste in music, and for us to be painfully aware that for most of the evening all the guests seemed to be arguing with one another.
This dessert might have been the root cause of their grumpiness.
I’d gone without a chilli hit for three straight days, the result of having a spice-hating guest to stay, combined with a lack of enthusiasm on my part for cooking multiple meals on the same evening, just to satisfy my craving for heat.
Now, with my obligations as a host fulfilled, it was time to give my mouth and all digestive systems due South thereof a good, old fashioned, capsaicin based workout once again.
Some dishes can have you slavering like a hungry wolf stood over the still warm carcass of a freshly killed deer at the merest thought of them, and then howling at the moon in frustration, as you impatiently wait for them to finish cooking.