Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Curry of Death Edition.

Yesterday, I decided I would make some sort of a ghetto curry because, well, I like curry and all of the Indian restaurants here pretty much suck. I started off by sweating some onions, then added ginger and garlic. While this was "working" as fucktard Rachael Ray would say (just don't ask how I'd know what she says), I par-boiled some potatoes. This curry was destined to be meatless (and tomatoless - no canned diced tomatoes, whatevs). When the onions were tender, I added three heaping tablespoons of Patak's hot curry paste. It smelled like heaven. I stirred it about, drained and dumped in the potatoes and topped the whole thing off with some defrosted frozen peas. Your mouth is watering, I know. To cut the presumed heat, I added a generous dollop of plain yogurt. Seemed authentic or something. I let it cool for a minute, fluffed the basmati, then took a heaping forkful of ghetto potato/pea curry. And then my face exploded. Now, I pride myself on at least trying the hottest of the hot shit, but dizzamn, this stuff was crazy hot! My nose immediately began to run, my eyes watered, I thought I was dying. The yogurt totally fell asleep on the job. I plunged my arm into the fridge to grab hold of the milk, my culinary nemesis, and drank right out of the carton. It reminded me of this time when it was decided there was nothing better to do after climbing Mt. Mousilauke (mountain near Dartmouth) in the dead of winter than to tuck into some pad thai at Mai Thai in Hanover. I ordered one star, but my dining companions decided to be real assholes and go for off the chart stars, the waitstaff was obviously nonplussed by their request, then realized they were Dartmouth assholes. Painful hilarity ensued. Aside from this latest trip into taste bud hell, this was the hottest substance I have ever had in my mouth. A fistful of wasabi would be pretty intense, but it's a brief punch to the neck. This was what I imagine a swift kick to the balls would be like - searing pain radiating slowly throughout the body. Anyway, I had my few bites, almost threw up and ordered that lassi shit and went into a near diabetic coma. I woke later that night to find the boys sitting in their underwear, sweating, high as kites, trying to shovel the leftovers into their mouths. I refused to go in the bathroom after them. The morel is, when waiters at Thai restaurants sneer at you, order one star hotter.

No relation to curry and in no particular order, this week's descriptionless, linkless playlist:

Summersong - The Decemberists
In State - Kathleen Edwards
Brother - Annuals
Music is my Hot, Hot Sex - CSS
Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis
Jolene - Ray Lamontagne
Boats and Birds - Gregory and The Hawk
How You Went So Far - Frank Black & The Catholics
West Coast - Coconut Records
Stay Free - Black Mountain
Winter on Vistoria Street - The Clientele
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart - Wilco
Mollena - James Hunter
Tres Tres Chic - Mocean Worker
Ocean Night Song - Laura Veirs
The Park - Feist
My Eyes - Travis
Who Discovered America - Ozomatli
Lazy Lover - Brazilian Girls
Ol'55 - Tom Waits