Well a few days ago, I heard the rumor about this all powerful death chilli. Then I stumbled upon this newspaper article in the Brisbane Times. The full original article can be found here. I thought I had better quote the source, as withholding this small detail would be considered blatant plagiarism.
The death chilli looks authentic, but I am not sure how they measure “Scoville Units”, or even define them for that matter. But I think I would be willing to risk death and try this chilli? I also have a few friends who wish to risk their life and try this death chilli too. Are they mad also? Time will tell I guess.
I wonder if I would get the same hallucination affects that Homer Simpson got when he ate the death chilli? Maybe I will get an epiphany? Maybe the after affect would kill me? Who knows, but I must try it.
So as it happens, my cousin, who is Dr Danger by legal name and by title is touring India. I’ve made him aware of this death chilli. He will do his best to get me one, or at least get the powdered version of it; which is safe and legal to export I believe. Anyway, enough ranting from me, you can read the newspaper article below if you wish.
PS. I still can’t get over this Indian’s big beady eyes, and that smug look on his face. I can also imagine him saying right now, “Ooooh you’re going to eat this chilli, ooooh”.
When you eat it, it’s like dying
CHANGPOOL, India - The farmer, a quiet man with an easy smile, has spent a lifetime eating a chilli pepper with a strange name and a vicious bite. His mother stirred them into sauces. His wife puts them out for dinner raw, blood-red morsels of pain to be nibbled - carefully, very carefully - with whatever she’s serving.
Around here, in the hills of northeastern India, it’s called the “bhut jolokia” - the “ghost chilli.” Anyone who has tried it, they say, could end up an apparition.
“It is so hot you can’t even imagine,” said the farmer, Digonta Saikia, working in his fields in the midday sun, his face nearly invisible behind an enormous straw hat. “When you eat it, it’s like dying.”
Outsiders, he insisted, shouldn’t even try it. “If you eat one,” he told a visitor, “you will not be able to leave this place.”
The rest of the world, though, should prepare itself.
Because in this remote Indian region facing bloody insurgencies, widespread poverty and a major industry - tea farming - in deep decline, hope has come in the form of this thumb-sized chilli pepper with frightening potency and a superlative rating: the spiciest chilli in the world. A few months ago, Guinness World Records made it official.
If you think you’ve had a hotter chilli pepper, you’re wrong.
The smallest morsels can flavour a sauce so intensely it’s barely edible. Eating a raw sliver causes watering eyes and a runny nose. An entire chilli is an all-out assault on the senses, akin to swigging a cocktail of battery acid and glass shards.
For generations, though, it’s been loved in India’s northeast, eaten as a spice, a cure for stomach troubles and, seemingly paradoxically, a way to fight the crippling summer heat.
Now, though, with scientific proof that barreled the bhut jolokia into the record books - it has more than 1,000,000 Scoville units, the scientific measurement of a chilli’s spiciness - northeast India is taking its chilli to the outside world.
Exporters are eagerly courting the international community of rabid chilli-lovers, a group that has traded stories for years about a mysterious, powerful Indian chilli. Farmers are planting new fields of bhut jolokias, government officials are talking about development programs.
Chances are no one will get rich. But in a region where good news is a rarity, the world record status has meant a lot of pride - and a little more business.
“It has got tremendous potential,” says Leena Saikia, the managing director of Frontal AgriTech, a food business in the northeastern state of Assam that has been in the forefront of bhut jolokia exports.
Last year, her company shipped out barely a tonne of the chillis. This year, amid the surge in publicity, the goal is 10 tonnes to nearly a dozen countries. “We’re getting so many inquiries,” says Saikia, who is unrelated to the farmer. “We’ll be giving employment to so many people.”
For now, at least, transport issues and a tangle of government regulations mean most exports are of dried bhut jolokias and chilli paste. But, Saikia added, the paste can be used for everything from hot sauces to tear gas. Because the heat is so concentrated, food manufacturers in need of seasoning can use far less bhut jolokia than they would normal chillis.
India’s northeast, a cluster of seven states that hangs off the country’s eastern edge, is a place where most people are ethnically closer to China and Myanmar than the rest of India. It’s a deeply troubled area, often neglected by the central government in New Delhi, where more than two dozen ethnic militant groups are fighting the Indian government and one another. Many areas remain largely off-limits to foreigners and few days pass without at least one killing.
In Assam, the wealthiest of the region’s states, the long-dominant tea industry is facing falling prices and rising costs, and one-third of the population lives below the poverty line. Attacks by the state’s main militant group, the United Liberation Front of Asom, and retaliatory government crackdowns, have brutalised the region.
“Maybe this bhut jolokia can help change things here,” says Ranjana Bhuyan, a high-school teacher shopping for vegetables in the Assamese town of Jorhat on a recent evening. Like most people here, she normally mixes bhut jolokias into sauces, or pickles them as a sort of spicy relish, but also likes to eat tiny pieces raw, enjoying the flavour and the sharp jolt.
“People have been eating this forever,” she says.
Only in the past few years, though, has the rest of the world even heard of it. The first reports filtered out in 2000, when the government’s Assam-based Defense Research Laboratory announced the bhut jolokia as the world’s hottest chilli. But their tests, reportedly done during research on tear gas, took years to be corroborated.
The confirmation came earlier this year from New Mexico State University’s Chile Pepper Institute, where spiciness is a religion. The institute got its first bhut jolokia seeds in 2001, but it took years to grow enough peppers for testing.
Their results, backed up by two independent labs and heralded by Guinness, were astonishing.
A chilli’s spiciness can be scientifically measured by calculating its content of capsaicin, the chemical that gives a pepper its bite, and counting its Scoville units.
And how hot is the bhut jolokia?
As a way of comparison: Classic Tabasco sauce ranges from 2,500 to 5,000 Scoville units. Your basic jalapeno pepper measures anywhere from 2,500 to 8,000. The previous record holder, the Red Savina habanero, was tested at up to 580,000 Scovilles.
The bhut jolokia crushed those contenders, testing at 1,001,304 Scoville units.
While small amounts of bhut jolokia are grown in a few other places, including Sri Lanka and Bangladesh (and a similar variety, the Dorset Naga, in England), horticulturists say the gentle sloping hills, heat and humidity of the Indian northeast make it the ideal greenhouse.
The pepper is known by any number of names across India’s northeast. It’s the “poison chilli” in some areas, the “king of the chillis” in others. Just to the south of Assam is Nagaland, it’s eaten in nearly every meal. As a result, it is often called the Naga mircha - the “Naga chilli.”
Still, getting your hands on a fresh bhut jolokia is difficult except in a handful of northeastern towns. A few specialty companies in the United States and Britain sell dried chillis and seeds, but the plants are painfully fragile, susceptible to many pests and diseases, and very difficult to grow.
So it may take a while before farmers outside this region are able to grow the bulbous, wrinkled pepper on a large scale.
For now, outside of a few exports, the bhut jolokia will remain with the people who have eaten it for centuries.
Said Saikia, the farmer. “It has become a part of our culture.”
