Yup. That’s my pepper crop.
Last night I finally determined there is no way I’ll eat all those peppers before they completely shrivel up and need to travel to the compost pile. So, I decided to freeze some of them. Apparently, frozen peppers are delightful in stir fry recipes. That makes me happy.
So, I got out my big giant cutting board, a knife, and rubber gloves. I’ve been the victim of attack Habaneros before, and I wasn’t taking chances. Those little peppers burn — under fingernails, eyes, etc. Not cool.
I’m absolutely horrible at pepper identification — I can’t really tell you which peppers are Ancho and which are Anaheim. Perhaps I’ll learn this skill someday. I googled pictures of the types of peppers in the garden in an attempt to identify them prior to freezing. It was about 50% successful.
I also decided to taste a little bit of each pepper before freezing them so I would know whether it was a hot pepper or a not-so-hot pepper.
This plan worked for a while — I cut up a bunch of Ancho peppers (I think) and happily munched on little pieces of pepper to ensure quality control. Then, I moved on to longer, skinnier peppers — and I sampled a piece. At that point, the fiery gates of hell opened up in my mouth. Many taste buds died, I’m sure. (Note: I like spicy food! I’m not a spice weenie!)
I needed milk! Fast! Unfortunately, my rubber gloves had hot pepper residue all over them. And there was NO TIME to remove the gloves. So, I grabbed my almond milk from the fridge, used my teeth to get the cap off, drank about half the carton, and put out (some) of the evil pepper fire.
So — it you come to my house today, you may not want any milk — I slobbered all over mine.
You may not want to sample a stir fry at my house, either.