My parents’ garden in Tallahassee seemingly triples in girth between my visits. The ghost pepper plant in particular has gone absolutely batshit fruiting. I get zippie bags full of the fiery things regularly via USPS.
I tried cooking with them once, immediately inspiring my ex to lean over the sink chugging milk and crying (weak, obviously). So I stopped that and have since researched other options.
I found this recipe for jalapeno-infused tequila and thought it might work with these bastards. Have you ever had the Bermuda Triangle at Duck Duck on Montrose? It’s spicy tequila with ginger beer and a lot of lime. It’s un-fucking-real nectarous.
Today I forked and roasted the peppers over my gas range, tossing ‘em into this mason jar of Jose Cuervo Silver.
Let’s see how my spin on further demonizing tequila turns out. I have to wait two days before seeing if I really did screw up by forgetting to peel the skins off.
I don’t really care because I will definitely drink it anyway.