A while ago I concluded that I had accidentally eaten part of a habanero, a conclusion not embraced by all but one which remains in place in my mind. This belief was reinforced when last night I unthinkingly popped a whole roasted pepper into my mouth and then thought to ask, just as my diaphragm went into convulsions, “Was that a habanero?”
It was. I’m still feeling it. The immediate, five-minute symptoms last night and last May were quite identical. Happily, we were able to flag a waiter down to bring a shot of rum in short order. The rum was quite helpful.