Capsaicin Cream
When I was little, I used to play amongst the chili plants. My grandmother was an inveterate horticulturist who grew everything ranging from custard-apple to tea roses to sweet pea and orchids, and she dearly loved being self-reliant in the matter of spices and other things (though they were never in enough profusion to please her).
So there I was, helping dearest grandma to pluck chilis, the small little red ones known locally as 'chili padi'. That evening, I felt a most awesome sensation, as if of a thousand red ants slowly working their jaws through the skin on my back. I had inadvertently got the sap or juice of the plant onto my skin. Water did not quench the burn; profuse sweating (incidental and certainly not by choice) did not help. Grandpa recommended milk, which would have helped, but I demurred.
Finally, I chose to endure and survive. It was a close thing. Exhaustion led to sleep, and on waking, I was mostly OK. There was a little side-effect: my migraines for the day stopped, flabbergasted by a superior show of pain. My grandmother, in her usual cup-is-half-full-of-something-else-anyway mode, said, "Lucky not in your eyes." Yes, indeed.
Flash forward another thirty-odd years (or thirty very odd years, if you must), and here I am, with the same chemical substance on my back, deliberately smeared on. It costs $20 a tube, unlike the five cents I would have paid for the chilis at the local market. Why? To combat middle-aged back pain (or the back pains of middle age). I feel the pain bring clarity and an age of enlightenment. Argh. Ah. Aaaaaaaaah. Why didn't I start this earlier?
Pain is sometimes very good.
So there I was, helping dearest grandma to pluck chilis, the small little red ones known locally as 'chili padi'. That evening, I felt a most awesome sensation, as if of a thousand red ants slowly working their jaws through the skin on my back. I had inadvertently got the sap or juice of the plant onto my skin. Water did not quench the burn; profuse sweating (incidental and certainly not by choice) did not help. Grandpa recommended milk, which would have helped, but I demurred.
Finally, I chose to endure and survive. It was a close thing. Exhaustion led to sleep, and on waking, I was mostly OK. There was a little side-effect: my migraines for the day stopped, flabbergasted by a superior show of pain. My grandmother, in her usual cup-is-half-full-of-something-else-anyway mode, said, "Lucky not in your eyes." Yes, indeed.
Flash forward another thirty-odd years (or thirty very odd years, if you must), and here I am, with the same chemical substance on my back, deliberately smeared on. It costs $20 a tube, unlike the five cents I would have paid for the chilis at the local market. Why? To combat middle-aged back pain (or the back pains of middle age). I feel the pain bring clarity and an age of enlightenment. Argh. Ah. Aaaaaaaaah. Why didn't I start this earlier?
Pain is sometimes very good.
Labels: Capsaicin, Childhood, Grandparents, Pain
etched with acid at 7:22:00 am
4 Comments:
I suppose the stuff isn't edible. Does it have a Scoville rating?
On the subject of spices and herbs, do you know what is the most convenient yet efficient way of maximising the flavour of mint?
I've been trying to reduplicate sambal belacan. I failed miserably, notably because I don't have anything near to belacan over here in the US, but I did try:
anchovy extract + sambal + salt + sugar + squeeze tube basil + garlic + ginger + onion + habanero tobasco + a hint of curry paste + a heavy dose of pepper and chili powder + milk + water + lemon + lime
Then I added mint flakes and microwaved for 2 minutes.
The result was a taste (and a wonderful smell!) that somewhat resembled a cross between penang laksa gravy and tom yum.
But I still don't know if I even fully used the mint flakes. Would microwaving mint leaves in solution for 2 minutes generally bring mostly everything out?
Pharmaceutical-strength capsaicin is designed to penetrate the skin and produce a deep heating effect that counters other forms of pain. It's used in about 0.075% concentration. Since pure capsaicin is about 16 million scoville units, this works out to only about 12000 units. The burn is pretty good though.
For mint, you need to extract it into alcohol first if you really like mint. Steep mint leaves in vodka or wine or whatever you're comfortable with. If you're using spirits, heat using a warm water bath, NOT a microwave or direct heat. Heh.
I extract vegetable flavours (e.g. mushrooms or mint) by freezing the plant until stiff, then pounding it or heating it in olive oil. This ruptures the cells and brings out part of the flavour. Then add cooking alcohol (wine, whatever) and it brings out the rest.
Oooh interesting, thanks! I'll try it this afternoon. So cooking alcohol's use goes beyond providing mere alcohol flavour, then!
Does the mint flavour leave more efficiently because the alcohol sets up a diffusion gradient? Maybe a pH-related thing, perhaps, or due to hydrophobic-hydrophilic reactions?
Haha, cooking chemistry wasn't exactly taught to me at school.
Cooking is the most immediately practical form of chemistry, my dear galosien!
Most menthol-type aromatic compounds can be extracted with alcohol better than with water.
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