Two years ago, a chicken wing humbled me, brought me to my knees, induced Technicolor hallucinations, then made me cry uncle.
At the time, I was in search of the city’s spiciest food, a personal edification-turned-story assignment. The pursuit yielded meek, unsatisfying results, with most dishes that claimed heat failing to even nudge my tolerance needle
Everything changed when I met Abeng Stuart, a Jamaican who owned a chicken wings restaurant called Wings Around the World (510 E. 75th St., 773-483-9120). The wings are coated with any of three dozen flavors, including lemon-pepper, curry-masala and maple syrup.
At the far right of the spice spectrum was “kamikaze,” a habanero-based sauce Stuart concocted that was so dangerously hot, people came in just to order the wings on a bet. Upon tasting it, all I remembered were the people around me who just laughed.
Two years have passed, and I mustered the courage for a return bout against the kamikaze wing. I found Stuart on a weekday afternoon, as happy-go-lucky as I remembered, mixing his brew of kamikaze sauce in a 12-quart bucket. The blend hasn’t changed — a half-dozen ingredients beginning with habanero, cayenne and jalapeno peppers that makes a left turn with jerk seasonings.
He prepared two wings for me. First, a coating of butter, then a slather of kamikaze sauce. At first, there was a sweetness to the wings, with just a tinge of heat.
Aha! Conquered! But within 15 seconds, the capsaicin (the chemical compound that makes peppers hot) was burrowing deep into my tongue, gripping on taste buds in a stranglehold. It grew hotter by the moment, inducing sweat, sniffles and tremors. Panting made it worse. Cold beverages fail to mitigate heat at this level.
The memories of bad decisions past came rushing back. The effects weren’t so much physical, but something that resonated on a soul-depth, so wickedly spicy it was as if staring into evil incarnate in the guise of a drumette.
Then I remembered: Kamikaze is named for the band of Japanese pilots who’d plunge into the enemy for honor and country. So basically, a self-inflicted wound.
— Kevin Pang
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Extremely hot jazz
JAZZ CRITIC HOWARD REICH
Jazz musicians often thrive on extremes, inventing daring new sounds that perpetually reinvent the art form. One thrilling example: “UnTill Emmett Till,” a jazz suite that fearlessly explores the murder of 14-year-old Chicagoan Emmett Till in 1955. The slaying of Till — after he reportedly had whistled at a white woman while he was visiting Mississippi — helped ignite the civil rights movement and has been the subject of countless articles, books and films.
But few works match the raw fervor of “UnTill Emmett Till,” in which Chicago composer Ernest Dawkins leads his Chicago 12 band in an incendiary retelling of the story. With poet Khari B roaring through an original text and vocalist Dee Alexander poignantly singing the part of Till’s mother, “UnTill Emmett Till” captures the sorrow and anger of this grim chapter of American history.
The piece played to critical acclaim at Chicago’s Velvet Lounge early in 2008, and now Dawkins and colleagues will revive it as part of the Jazz Institute of Chicago’s Jazz- City series: 7 p.m. Dec. 4 at Hamilton Park, 513 W. 72nd St.; free; 312-427-1676.
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Chili nights
The fireman is hot
Professionally speaking, that is. He works in searing conditions. Drives a red-hot ride.
And devotes his downtime to perfecting searingly hot chili.
Not that it’s polite to traffic in stereotype. Many a firefighter may talk shop over creme brulee or wilted mache salad. But I have it on authority that the actual firefighter fends off hunger by way of actual chili. I have researched this by stopping by my local firehouse, peering at the heavy-duty stove and asking, “What do you cook?” To which the uniformed professional uniformly responds: chili. It’s a standard benefit of the job.
I have welcomed the firefighter and his entourage on several occasions. The evening I thought my loft had filled with smoke, which turned out to be a neighbor’s attempt at incense. Or the afternoon I thought my condo had sprung a gas leak, which turned out to be the unorthodox heating system downstairs. Or the time — mid-marriage ceremony — when it appeared my grandmother-in-law had expired, prompting a pair of paramedics to stomp down the aisle, each clutching a defibrillator in place of the traditional bouquet.
So I was pleased recently to encounter the firefighting team under controlled conditions: the firehouse chili cook-off. Here sizzled East Texas chili and all-beef chili and vegetarian pumpkin chili masala. Each delicious. Especially one spiced with chipotle, sweetened with brown sugar and spiked with whiskey. I meant to ask the pros how they perfected their stew, but I never got the chance. An alarm rang. The firefighters clomped out, leaving the chili enthusiasts with the warm sensation that comes from a cold night, hot chili and the certainty that help is near at hand.
— Leah Eskin
FIREHOUSE CHILI
serves 25 (halve recipe if your crowd is small)
4 pounds boneless beef short rib, finely chopped
2 onions, chopped
1 head garlic, chopped
4 jalapeno chilies, chopped
1 can (7 ounces) chipotle chilies in adobo, chopped
1/4 cup each, chopped, fresh: oregano, rosemary
2 tablespoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 pounds each: chorizo, Italian sweet sausage
2 pints Guinness stout
1/2 bottle red wine
1 can (28 ounces) plum tomatoes, in juice
1 can (28 ounces) crushed tomatoes
1 cup Bourbon
1/2 cup brown sugar
1. Marinate: Tumble short rib into a large bowl. Cast on onion, garlic, jalapenos, chipotles (with adobo), oregano, rosemary, cumin, salt and pepper. Drizzle with oil; toss. Cover and chill 2-24 hours.
2. Brown: Slip off sausage skins and discard. Slice chorizo into coins, break up Italian. Toss with marinated short ribs. Heat a huge, heavy oven-proof pot over medium-high heat. Tumble in meat mixture, and cook until meat has browned and cook has finished drinking 1 pint Guinness, 20 minutes.
3. Braise: Pour in wine, remaining 1 pint Guinness and tomato, breaking it up with a spoon. Bring to a boil. Cover and slide into a 325-degree oven. Cook 1 1/2 hours. Remove from oven, and skim off any accumulated fat.
4. Boil: Heat Bourbon and brown sugar to a boil in a medium saucepan. Douse chili. Cover and return to oven, 30 minutes.
Provenance: Adapted from firehouse and chili enthusiast Paul Bartlett.
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DRESS UP YOUR COCOA
When it comes to banishing winter chills, few things stoke us like a frothy cup of hot cocoa. But Chicago winters often require something extra, another layer of soul-warming heat.
That’s what led us to search out the city’s selection of spicy Mexican hot chocolates — chili-laced cocoas that serve as secret weapons against the deep freeze. Legend has it that Montezuma, the 15th century Aztec ruler, used to gulp several cups of chocolate mixed with wine and spices each day — and most historians assume those spices involved chilies. Thus you’ll see the word “Aztec” attached to many of the spicy hot chocolates gracing some of the trendier menus around the U.S. these days. Here are three in Chicago that pack distinctly different tastes.
Metropolis (1039 W. Granville Ave., 773-764-0400, metropoliscoffee.com): The Mexican hot cocoa ($2.75 for 12 ounces) made from Azteca cocoa blend and frothy, hot whole milk offers a dreamy experience with hints of vanilla and cinnamon, especially when you drink it from a real ceramic cup. But if you are looking for a spicy kick, bring your cayenne shaker with you to the cafe.
Xoco (449 N. Clark St., 312-334-3688, rickbay less.com): At this new Rick Bayless fast-casual location, the celebrated chef takes pains to truly create a bean-to-cup experience — roasting, grinding, blending and whipping each cup of hot chocolate on the premises. The resulting Aztec chocolate (one of six chocolate drinks) is a thin but authentic tasting dark chocolate drink with a hint of allspice and tart cherry notes. Those expecting tongue-searing chili flavor or the creamy froth of a cocoa powder and milk concoction will be disappointed. Instead, this drink, made with water, spice and real chocolate, will appeal to those who want a genuine experience, something not far from what Montezuma might have sipped. $2.50.
Vosges Haut Chocolat (520 N. Michigan Avenue, second floor of the North Bridge Mall, 312-644-9450, and 951 W. Armitage Ave., 773-296-9866, vosgeschocolate.com): Those who must have some real heat with their hot cocoa have come to the right place. Not only does this shop, better known for high-end truffles, create a deeply chocolatey drink in its “Aztec elixir” ($5), but it’s also a rich chocolately drink that delivers a definite cayenne kick, leaving you warm all over.
— Monica Eng
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STILL NOT WARMED UP?
Some foods on the spicy spectrum involve a subtle heat — one that delivers profound chili flavor then a slow burn that leaves you glowing for hours. Here are three of our faves.
Dry chili chicken at Lao Sze Chuan (2172 S. Archer Ave., 312-326-5040): The cooks here are so adept with the ways of their dry chili dishes. Tossing the chicken nubbins in cayenne seeds, and cooking them in a dry hot wok full of the whole peppers creates a smokiness and heat that will haunt you for days. $10.25.
Mirch pakora at Sukhadia’s (2559 W. Devon Ave., 773-338-5400; 1016 Golf Rd., Hoffman Estates, 847-490-4400): “These are not spicy. They are sweet,” assured the server at this Indian snack shop. But we assure you that these deep-fried banana peppers do qualify as spicy. They deliver a lovely smoky, fruity chili flavor under a crunchy coating. $2.50 for two peppers plus condiments.
Fried green peppers at Cafe Ba Ba Reeba (2024 Halsted St., 773-935-5000): These thumb-size chilies are fried in olive oil until blistery, then tossed in sea salt. This is the traditional preparation for Spain’s revered pimientos de padron. Most offer a mild kick with lovely undertones of fruit and nuts. But watch out, there’s inevitably one in the batch that will singe your eyebrows. $5.95.
— Monica Eng
