Last night I was at the Fair Food Farmstand after work, picking up some groceries: a couple yukon gold potatoes for a roasted sausage dish I planned on making with my Meadow Run merguez, some yogurt, a couple apples, a tiny block of Birchrun Hills Highland Alpine (a cheese I am intensely devoted to) and some eggs.
My bag was already a bit over-filled for the 30 minute walk home but then somebody mentioned pickles, and pointed. There they were—Weaver's Way's locally made, locally grown pickles. The Farmstand carries two flavors: basic dill and "spicy." The young woman manning the register assured me they were spicy, like spicy. The ingredients confirmed the presence of habanero peppers in the mix. Still, I was skeptical. Packaged spicy foods are rarely as hot as they claim to be.
When I got home, I immediately cracked open my jar. I was chatting casually with my little brother as I took my first bite.
The combination of the chili with the garlic and the vinegar produces an intense burning feeling—a powerful zip that had me downing water. But there was something addictive about the pain. The second it faded, the craving started to grow. I kept venturing back to the fridge, taking down four or five spears as my potatoes browned. For true spice lovers, this is an extraordinary product.