“What the actual f*ck am I doing?”. That was the only thing going through my head as I approached the doors of Zouk tea bar and grill, ready to embark on the biggest challenge of my entire life.
I was already sweating at the sheer thought of the spice that was about to overtake every single one of my senses. I thought I knew what I was in for, but I was wrong.
I’m no stranger to a bit of heat. My motto is 'if it doesn’t make you sweat, it’s not worth consuming'. Okay, that’s a bit far - but the sentiment stands. I like spicy food.
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So when I saw that a restaurant in Manchester was challenging customers to come and eat the ‘world’s hottest curry’, I knew I had to do it. This was my calling. If I could do this, I could do anything. Little did I know what was to come.
After a few hours of inviting every single one of my friends to join me, I ended up making a reservation for two people.
The calm before the storm
The big day rolled around, and I was already having nervous poos. Not a good sign so early on in the game, but there we are.
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I spent the morning researching what my battle was going to entail. When I saw that even the chefs struggle to prepare the dish, I began to question myself.
You see, this curry is made with the Carolina Reaper chilli, which has a Scoville score of up to 1.5-2.2 million Scoville Units. For context, the spiciest sauce you can get at Nando’s has a score of 175,000, so safe to say this curry would make a Lemon and Herb fan see God.
To make matters even worse, someone has even been hospitalised after eating a Carolina Reaper chilli.
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The dread continued to mount when I realised that only 15 people had completed the challenge last year. I shuddered as I thought of the poor souls who didn’t make it through, and wondered where they were now. If anywhere.
The beast itself
The curry actually sounded quite nice, despite being so terrifying. It’s a hot take on a karahi, a dish that originates in Pakistan. It’s cooked ‘in a wok over hot flames with tomatoes, ginger, garlic, peppercorns and cumin forming the curry’s base.’
Sounds quite appealing, right?
The website then goes on to explain that it also includes ‘dried Carolina Reaper chillies, Carolina Reaper Chilli Powder and Carolina Reaper Chilli paste.’
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Slightly less appealing.
Oh, you also have to sign a waiver before eating it.
Really not appealing.
Entering the arena
It finally got to 7.00pm, and I arrived at the restaurant, ready to prove myself and make my parents proud.
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After ordering an obligatory (large) Cobra beer, I asked the waiter for the Carolina Reaper curry. Instead of writing down my order, he laughed in disbelief. This was my first hurdle. Embarrassment. After assuring him I was fine to embark on the challenge, he brought over the waiver.
“I understand that The Carolina Reaper Karahi Challenge can cause serious injury/harm.”
I signed it tentatively, comforted by the knowledge that should anything happen to me, I'd die a hero.
My order finally arrived, and my nose hairs were practically singed off at the first whiff of spice. This was it.
My first bite
As the spoon hit my mouth, tingles shot up and down my tongue, and the back of my throat began to sting in a way I’ve never felt before. I wanted to get up and leave, but I persevered. I managed eight more mouthfuls before realising I'd gone too far.
My stomach began churning and I had no choice but to flee the restaurant. I waddled away as quick as I could, wondering which orifice was about to take a beating.
My stomach began somersaulting violently, and before I knew it, all the curry I'd just consumed came erupting back out of my mouth. But the worst was yet to come...
An unexpected burst of life
I sheepishly returned to my seat, determined not to give up. I looked my garlicky-spicy enemy in the eye, and ate four more mouthfuls.
This was when things got weird.
Usually, spicy food obliterates your mouth. It stings, stays on fire, and no amount of water will help. In fact, water only makes it worse, as you’re spreading the spice around.
But this was different. The painful tingle on my tongue only really lingered for about two minutes, and then it disappeared. I was gleeful at this. Had I cracked the code? Had my mouth decided to lose all sensation in order to allow me to complete this task and go down in history?
It had not.
The pain instead went straight to my stomach. And I don’t just mean a slight cramp or a bit of discomfort - I mean pure, unadulterated agony. Waiters began flocking to the table with concern, as I doubled over, feeling like my intestines had been burnt off.
It was too painful to even cry. I ran to the loo, almost praying it would pass through me now so I could get this over with. I was given a very strange look by two girls taking selfies in the bathroom as I entered, sweating, face crumpled, and body bent over.
I sat on the toilet, panicking at this point. Would I have to call an ambulance? Would I need a stomach transplant? Was I going to go full circle and end up on LADbible with news of my unfortunate death?
Having to turn down the antidote
I made it through the next few minutes, and sat back down.
Everyone knows that in these situations you need milk/yogurt to help neutralise things inside your body.
The kind waiter brought over a very appealing Mango Lassi, which looked like an oasis of hope for the desert that was my mouth. One snag, I couldn’t have it.
It was made with dairy which I don’t eat, though I was very close to throwing my morals out the window. Alas, I turned it down. Pretty f*cking stupid, huh?
The aftermath
I had two more mouthfuls but was well and truly defeated. It wasn’t going to happen. My stomach was screaming at me and I'm pretty sure I was on death’s door.
I’d failed. I’d not only let down the waiters, my parents, and my friends, but I'd let down myself.
I staggered out of the restaurant, my head hung with shame. I could hardly make eye contact with anyone. All that pain, for what?
A glimmer of hope
I’m not gonna lie, I was expecting my bowels to tell me how unhappy they were first thing when I woke up. But to my surprise, I felt fine in the morning. Amazing in fact. I didn’t need to go to the toilet, I hadn’t sh*t the bed, and my stomach was alright.
I even considered returning to the restaurant for round two.
But as the clock struck 11.00am, I was violently humbled.
The final punishment
Nature called, and it didn’t stop ringing.
Safe to say I needed some more loo roll to deal with the consequences.
So, there you have it. I ruined my stomach, and various other body parts, all in the name of bravery. I paid the price, but at least it’s something I can say i’ve done now.
If you dare to give it a go, head over to Zouk. At your own risk.
Featured Image Credit: LADbibleTopics: Food And Drink, UK News, Weird