Human foibles

Why Are People Who Like Spicy Food So Dang Smug About It?

Weird flex, but okay

True to my generalist ways, I fall down a lot of internet rabbit holes. The latest is Hot Ones, a show where celebrities with a book, movie, or lifestyle line to hawk eat progressively hotter chicken wings as the host asks them insightful questions.

Through the course of the interview, the host and his guest eat 7 wings, starting with a mild 1800 Scoville level Classic Hot Sauce and ending with one they call The Last Dab, which is a molten lava two million Scoville units.

It’s interesting to see how different people react to eating spicy food. Some, like famed chef Gordon Ramsey, talk a good game but don’t make a pretense when things get real. Ramsey hilariously swigs Pepto-Bismol and downs donuts in between bites when he is bested by a sauce called Hellfire with a scorching 679,000 Scoville units. This is the same sauce that sees actor Jennifer Garner abandon all pretense of being okay as she yells “up your butt, Sean!” at the host.

Then there are people like chef Alton Brown. You can see his pain in the final rounds, but he’s determined not to let it show. While he sagely requested half and half to drink instead of milk, he barely touches it even after The Last Dab and tosses off a deliberately casual “fun show, next time try getting something hot, though.” before throwing his napkin on the table and taking his leave.

I have a friend like that. No sauce is hot enough for him. It doesn’t matter where we go or how many skulls and crossbones there are on the label, he makes a show of his disappointment.

While I’m no Alton Brown, I’ve been told my spicy food tolerance is “good for a white girl.” If a restaurant’s pepper scale goes to five, I know three is my limit. Any more and I can still consume it, but I’m suffering.

This is why I’m writing this piece. There comes a point when food goes from spicy delectable to spicy unbearable, and that point varies for everyone. But I notice people who pride themselves on eating spicy food clearly go beyond their comfort level and pretend like it’s no big deal. They probably don’t even enjoy the food, they just want people to see them eat it.

They’re trying to prove a point, but what?

Since I started sharing a few of my travel stories on this platform, a couple of readers have (kindly) mentioned to me that travel stories can sound like an annoying humblebrag. Like, oh I’m so adventurous, I’m so daring, I’m so “woke”. I appreciate other cultures and will pretend that’s what I’m doing while I’m really demonstrating how cultured and awesome I am.

By the way, I love travel stories and most of them don’t come off that way, so keep them coming. But I’m self-aware enough to know that I take a little too much pride in being an adventurer, so I understand what these people were (diplomatically) saying.

I think spicy food eaters have the same kind of thing going on. They’re seeing a little too much merit in their own actions. Like “oh my god, you think that’s hot? Please, I’m shivering.”

Don’t lie, spicy food lovers. You’re (not so secretly) smug about your Scoville score.

If you’ve read my posts for a while, you know I’m not one to generalize based on gender. But I think we can all agree that the Spice Conquerors tend to be of the male persuasion. At some point, someone confused masculinity with the ability to down ghost peppers with a smile.

I went on a food tour in Belize (oops, humblebrag?) with a group of Americans. We were offered a rice dish with one pepper on the side. Our guide told us that the pepper was so potent that we’d be well advised to stir it around the food and then remove it. Its mere essence would make the dish hot enough.

I know my limits and decided to eat the dish without even introducing the pepper. But one Spice Conqueror made a show of getting that pepper juice all over the plate. However, he made the mistake of picking the pepper out with his fingers. A minute later, he rubbed his eyes.

His bravado diminished considerably as he shed tears of searing pain. He finally went to the restroom to get himself together and came back hunched over and limping. He’d used the facilities while he was in there, and now a whole new and much-prized area below the belt buckle was also affected.

I’ll be the first to say most savory foods are improved with a little heat. But the bravado of the ultra-spicy tribe has nothing to do with actual flavor. It’s a weird competition, the “who can eat this hotter” game, and I’m not convinced it enhances the participants’ (or bystanders’) enjoyment of the meal.

As a humblebrag, it makes very little sense. Where’s the evolutionary imperative to be okay with feeling like your mouth is on fire? Presumably, it’s proving your ability to withstand pain? But I’m not seeing your spice tolerance as you being better able to protect me from saber tooth tigers, caveman style.

I think you’d be more apt to survive the ancient wilds with a man who avoids unnecessary pain.

I suppose we all get our pride where we can, and most of us admittedly can’t handle one million-plus Scoville units. So go on with your bad selves. Just know, this “achievement” isn’t impressing the rest of us as much as you seem to think.

Medium is full of great lifestyle content like this. You can get access for only $5/month by clicking here. If you join using this link, I’ll earn a commission.