Redneck Pepper By James E. Boyd B. J. and I travel. In fact, we travel a lot. We collect things from around the world where we travel. We collect coffee cups, bottles, key chains, refrigerator magnets, caps, cookbooks, ad infinitum. And, when circumstance allow, we collect food items (packaged of course) such as dips, jams, jellies, preserves, sauces and condiments. We like to sample the unusual cuisines of the world. We have found some of the cookery quite tasty and some of it not worth repeating. Sometime back somewhere in Florida, we stopped in an eye-catching shop in an out-of-the-ordinary shopping center near a cozy condo on a lovely beach where we were spending some time. This is us. We do this. Over nearly fifty-three years of happy marriage, we have shopped in unique shopping places far and wide. The store was big. Both the façade and the interior of the mart was a study in arresting arrangement. Multitudes of colorful whatnots and indescribables inundated the place. One, or in our case two people, could spend hours in the place and barely graze the surface. We plundered the place happily and curiously looking for something inimitable to add to our collection of curios. B. J. ransacked the clothing section looking for something “different” while I moved randomly about. Someone we took to be the proprietor appeared to be eyeing us suspiciously. Then something across the aisle caught my eye. I moved over to examine it. The quaint multihued wrapping was intriguing. I read the label; it said in big vivid letters: REDNECK PEPPER MADE IN THE USA. A drawing of an uncommon carved circular spice rack on the cover was the clincher. I had to have it. The proprietor saw me investigating the article and came to me. “There are several varieties of peppers contained the rare pepper shakers in the package; it’s a great buy for $12.95.” “I’ll give you ten bucks for it,” I replied. “Eleven dollars and you can have it.” I bought the thing. He sacked it up for me. After probing the place from top to bottom, B. J., the ever-so meticulous bargain hunter, failed to find that exclusive piece that fascinated her fancy. She said, “Maybe whatever kind of whatchamacallit you bought will do for both of us.” After lounging in our condo and seeing the sights around the area, prowling the beach day and night and checking out some of the local eateries for a few days, we headed north up A1A toward the Peach State. Arriving home, we unburdened Little Blue, donned some comfortable clothes and settled back to relax. Later, I unwrapped my beguilingly carved spice rack and put it in the cabinet among our other spices. It would be a long time before I did anything to the thing except just look at it admiringly occasionally. I was a little wary of the title: REDNECK PEPPER. Well, the other day, B. J. had one of those “refrigerator clearing” days that she gets from time to time. She took all the leftovers in the frig, added some tomatoes and rice and stewed it down to what she called “goulash.” Her “goulash” looked good and had a tantalizing aroma. Ordinarily, I would have spiced it up with a tad of JEB’s Old Fashioned Hickory Smoked BBQ Sauce just to give it that special essence that only JEB’s Old Fashioned Hickory Smoked BBQ Sauce can give. However, Instead of going for the Sauce, I reached for a container of REDNECK PEPPER and sprinkled it amply on the “goulash.” I love to snack when I’m writing; it seems to give me zest. So, I settled at my computer with my goulash and a glass of tea. I put a spoonful of the stuff in my mouth. At first, I couldn’t detect any noticeable quality in the flavor that got my interest. Then, after a minute or two, it was like a hot coal of fire in my mouth. My fingers went crazy on the keyboard and typed some unintelligible letters. Zest I got! I grabbed the tea and gulped it down and then bounded to the refrigerator to get more. If I had said out loud what I was thinking, it would have been a true outrage to any who may have been listening. I could think of only one other time that I had been so afflicted; it was when I tested some genuine Mexican salsa on a trip to Chihuahua City, Mexico. After downing several glasses of cold tea and huffing and puffing and fanning my mouth, I set the remainder of the goulash aside until I could come up with something to dilute its potency. I hated to tell B. J. The label read Made in the USA but I honestly believe that the old Serpent of Eden may have added a touch of his special spice to it.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Jun 2013 17:22:26 +0000
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