In 1998 a friend and I flew down to Nassau, Bahamas to gamble and relax and watch the Broncos beat the Packers in Super Bowl XXXII. There were many incredible stories that I earned in my experiences that week but this one in particular concerns a lovely little edible firecracker called a goat pepper.
We had been at the hotel/casino for a few days and had already sampled the best of what the tourist eateries had to offer and decided to venture off into the city to find some cuisine that was a bit more authentic. At the front desk we asked a local girls where the locals ate. She directed us to a tiny restaurant 15 blocks away. Her directions included a warning that we would most likely be the only white folks in the neighborhood and to watch our backs.
It took some searching and scanning for shady characters, but finally we located it and ducked inside quickly. We ordered several specialties of the house, the highlight of which was a basket of fried conch with some local fruit slaw. When it arrived we asked her if they had any hot sauce and she brought out a bottle of Tabasco sauce. We asked if they had anything else and she shook her head, but then said – “Well, we have the homemade hot sauce that WE use, but you wouldn’t be interested in that. It’s probably a little to hot for you (White Boys).”
Well the thought of local homemade hot sauce had our mouths watering and our bellies growling and after we assured her several times that we had plenty of experience with spicy food she brought us a bowl of their goat pepper sauce. We asked her what a goat pepper was and she just said that it was a very spicy pepper that grew on the island. I later found out that what they call a “goat pepper” is basically the same thing as a habanero.
The sauce had 2 primary ingredients: lemon juice, and thinly sliced goat peppers. With the fried conch it was absolute heaven. It had crazy spice behind it but it didn’t smack you in the face. The lemon introduction of it was spot on with the seafood (especially conch) and then the flames would rise and set your saliva glands to squirting with ecstacy. For seafood it was the best hot sauce I have ever tried. I swore then and there that when I returned to the states I would share this great discovery with all of my friends who appreciated the finer points of 4-alarm cuisine.
When we got back home to the states I was still pumped up about my new culinary discovery and I set out to fulfill my oath of sharing the best seafood hot sauce with my asbestos-tongued friends. So I went out and got like 48 ball jars, several gallons of lemon juice and a pound and a half of habanero peppers (that’s a lot of peppers people). I got the pots a boiling for the canning process and prepared the other spices and oils and set out to slice up all of the peppers.
I mentioned before that while the habanero is a powerful pepper, the heat comes on rather slowly as the heat is well embedded in the oils of the pepper. As I was getting toward the end of slicing up habaneros I noticed that that my fingers were starting to burn so I finished quickly and washed my hands as soon as possible. It was too late, the oils had thoroughly infiltrated my fingernails.
Within 15 minutes the heat had progressed to the point where it felt like someone had hammered nails through the tips of every one of my fingers. I washed them and washed them and washed them, but nothing would take away the feeling of my napalmed fingertips. I sucked it up and finished the canning job and eventually had 48 small jars of homemade goat pepper sauce with which to share with my brethren, but I did not sleep that night. In fact it took about a week for the heat under my fingernails to finally and fully subside.
The goat pepper sauce was a success. Most people I have it too loved it, but for some people it was too spicy. I would do it all again but this time I’m putting on my surgeon’s gloves before I attempt to tangle with dangerous produce.