Eyes streaming, ears ringing, and mouth burning, I stumbled out of the ‘Garden of India’ and into the freezing night. What I experienced on that night has been difficult to translate into words. I see shades of orange. Someone is shouting words in my ear. I see a light at an end of a tunnel. I simultaneously remember all and none of it. Thankfully, just before taking my first mouthful, I put my phone on record.
First Contact
We arrived at the ‘Garden of India’ full of anticipation, ready to take on the hottest curry in York. The staff immediately understood what we wanted, and set about crafting a dish they called, ‘The Lethal Weapon’. Just like the 1987 film of the same name, this was to be a buddy cop affair. Me and Joe, the paper’s Climate Editor, were to take this challenge on together. Although we had originally planned for an element of competitiveness, the power of this shared experience would soon bring us together.
Joining us was our very own Editor, Will, and Scene Editor, Charlie. They were to be our support team, offering comforting words and, if needed, medical assistance. The first few minutes of the recording don’t contain much talking. In between sharp intakes of breath, Joe can be heard saying, ‘My mouth is on fire’. For me, actually bringing myself to take repeated mouthfuls was the issue. Our bodies were rejecting the curry, but our minds were insisting that we continue. The burning sensation in my mouth was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced; it completely overtook me. Our eyes were watering, our noses running, it felt as if our ears had popped. During this initial period, the waiter came over to inquire after our food. We admitted that it was taking its toll on us, and he laughed and told us that it is what we asked for. We agreed.
Mid-Point Reload
About half way through our dishes, we took a moment to reflect. Comparing notes, we talked about the ‘naan sandwich’ technique, which allowed the curry to slip down without touching our now tender mouths. At this point, Charlie, who had tried both curries, confirmed that they were equally potent, and had nullified the effects of his medium-spice dish. From here on in, things took a turn for the delirious.
Spice High
Me and Joe started to feel a bit light headed. Were we beginning to reach a wall? I started fantasising about gulping in mouthfuls of fresh air, and we both felt, in Joe’s words, ‘on the verge of panic’. Rich pieces of chicken and pepper lured me back in, before assaulting me with the ferocious spice they had absorbed. Then, all of a sudden, we reached Nirvana. The fire morphed into a gentle heat. It was glorious. The experience has connected us with our bodies in a way that not much else does. It had been the only thing we could focus on, it had grounded us in reality. As Will suggested, they should really hold spice therapy sessions.
We were done. Joe had all but finished his curry, and I had done nearly as well, leaving only a fiery soup at the bottom of my dish. In clearing our plates, a member of staff tried a forkful of my curry, and agreed that is was ‘fucking hot’. Spice lovers, get down to Garden of India and ask for the ‘Lethal Weapon’. It will not disappoint.